Harry Potter and the Alchemist's Apprentice
by kmfrank
Summary: In the midst of the battle in the Department of Mysteries in Harry's fifth year, he is knocked into a large hourglass and hit with five Killing Curses from the Death Eaters. He wakes up in the streets of an unfamiliar London. Where is he? What happened
1. Lost and Found Again

_**Harry Potter and The Alchemist's Apprentice**_

Chapter One: Lost and Found Again

"In here, Hermione, hurry!" Harry yelled to his friend in the ghostly silence of the Department's halls. He and Neville had found the relatively deserted room, and it would make for a bit of a stronghold, for now. Inside the only artifact of note was an enormous hourglass filled with sand; it was decorated similarly to the Time-Turner that Hermione possessed back in Third Year.

"_Colloportus!_" Hermione said quickly as she came inside, sealing the door. "Harry, are you alright? Goodness I've been terrified – where are the others?"

"I don't know, Hermione, Neville's the only one who's kept up with me. Nice wand work, by the way, Neville." He said, smiling at the shy boy. Neville blushed a bit with the praise; their moment of respite was soon interrupted, however, and the three teens jumped as they heard voices.

"In here, the blasted door's jammed! _Alohomora!_" The voice of Lucius Malfoy was easy for Harry to identify; several other mutters were audible, but he couldn't tell who they belonged to. He hid the prophecy up his robe before pointing his wand at where his attackers were sure to emerge from. None of the three, however, were expecting the door to explode inward, knocking them all to their feet. Five Death Eaters rushed into the room, easily tying up Hermione and Neville while they were knocked down. Harry, however, managed to evade their spell with a quick sideways roll. Being forced to evade Dudley had never before been convenient to Harry, but this summer he'd thank his cousin for all the bullying that had made him as agile as he was.

"There you are, wee bitty Potter!" Came Bellatrix's insane cackle of laughter. "Come play! _Crucio!_" Harry immediately ducked her spell and returned a "_Stupefy!_" that whizzed by her ear.

"You have no chance of escape now, Potter! Hand over the prophecy!" Malfoy demanded. Bellatrix glared at him as he took command of the room. Apparently there were dominance issues amongst the Death Eaters; Harry smirked to himself.

"I handed it off to one of the others, and who knows where they might have gotten to. Sorry, looks like you're out of luck, Malfoy. I bet your Master will be mightily displeased with you…or would he blame dear Bellatrix? Which of you is in charge, anyway?" Malfoy's face darkened noticeably.

"I'm in charge, little Potty! And I think you're lying!" She lazily waved her wand in his direction and he flew backwards, towards the giant hourglass. Just before he impacted it she heard Bellatrix scream, "Kill him now, all together!" After he slammed into the hourglass, the sand whirling all around him, he saw three cloaked Death Eaters along with Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange yell in unison, "_Avada Kedavra!_" before pain such as he'd never felt tore through every nerve of his body, as though he was under the Cruciatus Curse from Voldemort himself. It was a ripping sensation, he realized, and he thought that it must've been his soul torn from his body. He expected to know no more after the blinding green light.

Harry, however, immediately found himself flat on his back staring up at a rainy sky.

'_Ugh…why does my whole body ache so much if I'm dead? And why is it bloody raining? This afterlife is pretty bloody overrated, so far…_' He thought angrily as he fought his protesting muscles to get up. He was still in his school robe, he noticed, and still holding his wand. His glasses were still on his face, if slightly askew. The prophecy was still there as a lump against his chest; other than the pain, he didn't feel all that much different from when he had when he had been alive.

"I say, old chap, are you alright? I didn't even notice you there a moment ago!" A man loomed in Harry's field of vision who held a cane – similar to Dudley's Smeltings stick – and wore a top hat along with a fancy shirt and formal coat. Harry looked at him somewhat oddly. '_Ah well, I guess dead people in an afterlife don't change their taste in clothes, after all…_' He thought.

"Er…yeah, I'm fine. Just fell, I guess. D'you mind telling me where I am?" He accepted the stranger's hand to work himself to a standing position.

"Must've whacked your head there, boy! You're in London! Don't tell me you've forgotten jolly old England too!" The stranger said with great mirth. "You, my boy, need a bit of a drink to get yourself back together! Just down the road there are quite a few pubs, I'd recommend one of those!" The stranger left Harry then, laughing a bit to himself.

Truly, this place Harry ended up made little sense at all – the streets were full not of cars like Harry expected, but instead carriages pulled by horses; an occasional car could be seen, but they were of an ancient and rather silly looking design. Harry remembered a museum trip at school one year where he'd seen something similar. Thankfully, he'd emerged in a part of London that he now recognized, despite only having visited here once. The row of pubs that the man pointed to had one in particular that held some significance for Harry – the Leaky Cauldron, entrance to London's secret wizarding population's shops. Harry decided to head that way, since at least he wouldn't be as out of place in his robes.

He smiled as he entered the familiarly dingy pub, but was quite surprised to see someone other than Tom – with his mostly toothless grin – behind the bar.

"Morning, lad! Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron! My name's Sam, can I get ya a pint? Mebbe some gin?" Harry was fairly amazed at the total disregard for drinking age laws that these people seemed to have. Within the pub itself, which was much busier than Harry remembered it ever being when he'd been alive, there were families there with even young children too young to attend Hogwarts with small glasses of beer in front of them. Of course, there was no reason to enforce laws when everyone was dead. It seemed a bit of a queer experience, being dead; Harry wondered why he didn't feel much stranger, but it seemed that everyone else had gone quite crazy. Perhaps it happened over time.

"No thanks, Sam. Just heading to the Alley." He said conversationally with a bit of a grin – it was odd, being in the Wizarding World and not having everyone point like a baboon at his scar.

"Alrighty then, you have yourself a nice time, lad!" Harry tapped the appropriate brick and the entrance appeared just as he'd remembered; the boisterous Diagon Alley seemed to be unchanged from his first visit – mounds of cauldrons of all kinds, with various sales and specials advertised in the windows of all the shops. Quick glances at the prices, however, made him glance closer. Dragon liver for 2 sickles an ounce! That was unbelievable! Harry quickly checked to make sure that an enormous dragon had not, in fact, dropped onto the Apothecary's shop, causing the low price.

Several other discontinuities became apparent to Harry as he made his way around, however. Just where was Madam Malkin's robe shop? All he saw was the pretentious robe shop of Twillfit and Tatting's. Only people like Malfoy shopped there, after all. And Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where Harry'd gotten treats almost every day during his stint here before his third year. After all, he'd gotten to know the Alley quite well in that time, and so the slight differences were a bit aggravating. Fred and George's shop was also missing; though he'd never seen it, he'd heard that they had bought a vacant property and were either currently remodeling or recently opening their marvelous joke shop.

Ollivander's and Florish & Blott's hadn't changed much, Harry noted as he passed them by, but then Ollivander's, at least, had been around for over 2000 years, so that was somewhat expected. Nor had Gringott's changed in the Land of the Dead, as Harry was beginning to think of this place as. Harry entered the familiar branch and was surprised to see a long line of wizards and witches. Apparently even the dead needed galleons, he was surprised to see.

"Either get in line or leave, sir, no loitering." A burly security goblin said to Harry with a glare. Harry, who had no real need for money yet – he thought, at least – turned around to leave but ended up turning around right into another customer, who he fought to catch as he realized it was a fairly elderly gentleman. At least six goblins also leapt to the aid of the man, they'd certainly never shown Harry such respect, he thought somewhat contemptuously as they ensured the man's wellbeing.

"Oh, I'm fine, just fine, I say. Yes, yes, I won't be moving my money elsewheres, I'm quite certain! Now then, I'll just go about my business!" He said, brushing his robes off. He held a cane in one hand, but didn't seem to rely on it much to walk. He was a smallish man with a very wrinkled face and a short but busy beard and moustache.

"Er, sorry about that, I didn't really look where I was going." Harry said in a muttered apology.

"Quite alright, young man, quite alright! I just didn't really expect anyone to leave without getting a few galleons out first; its why most people come here, after all." He said with a rather silly grin. The man was like an older, taller Professor Flitwick, with as cheerful as he seemed to be.

"Er, right. I guess I'm just a bit new here, so I'm sorta checking things out. Sorry to knock you over." The man had an interested look in his eye.

"New, are you? A bit old to be starting Hogwarts and a bit young to have finished…tell you what, lad, as a bit of an introduction to the area, why don't you come over to my manor for supper with myself and my lovely wife. I'm sure I'll enjoy your stories of your travels." He said with a grin.

"Uh…I'm flattered and all that, but I don't usually –" Harry was cut off by a goblin's exclamation of, "You would turn down an invitation by the great Nicolas Flamel! You foolish human!" Harry's eyes went as big as saucers when he realized just who the diminutive old man was. It was one thing to be in a world of nameless dead people, but this one he'd inadvertently caused the death of! Perhaps he should look up Cedric too, while he was around…might get to meet some Weasley relatives too, as the Diggory's lived near them.

"Oh…Mr. Flamel? I…well, I guess a supper couldn't hurt." He said haltingly. It was the least he could do after causing his death after 658 years.

"Excellent, my boy! Perenelle will be delighted – it's been years since we took in our last orphan, and the old manor could do with some younger blood running through it! Let me just conclude my business here with these fine goblinfolk, and I'll take you right away there." Mr. Flamel walked away surrounded by five of the goblins that had previously surrounded him. Two remained, whose sole job, it seemed, was to glare at Harry in an unfriendly manner.

"So, how long have you two been dead? I just got here a moment ago, myself. Arrived in the streets of London and came in through the Leaky Cauldron. So is the currency the same for dead people? I was kinda curious as to why everyone still used a bank, but I guess dead people want some things too, right? Otherwise this place might get a little boring." The goblins' expressions didn't change as Harry continued questioning them about this afterlife he'd apparently found himself in. They kept scowls on their faces that, with their pointy goblin teeth, made it look as though they were wolverines staring down Harry.

Finally, Flamel returned with his goblin escort that parted the crowd for the ancient man. "Ah, my young guest! Still here I see, despite the best efforts of those good goblins behind you! Well, let us head out, shall we? I shall Side-Along Apparate with you to my home. Just take my arm, there." He held out an arm that Harry grasped before he felt as though his entire body was compressed into a tube, squeezed impossibly more than he could ever imagine. Then, just as quickly, the sensation ended and instead of the inside of Gringott's, Harry was overlooking a lush valley replete with rolling hills and a lightly forested area slightly to his left. In front of him was a stately English manor with a bit of smoke coming from the chimney.

"Well, I think our little walk will give us a lovely chance to get to know each other a little better. After all, my wife Perenelle would be most upset if I couldn't properly introduce her to my guest, I believe. We can begin, I think, with names. I am Nicolas Flamel." Mr. Flamel extended his hand with a grin.

"Harry Potter." Harry said as he accepted it and shook hands with the legendary alchemist.

"A pleasure, Harry, and good to finally meet you formally. Now, unless I am much mistaken you have me at an advantage in that you have heard of me; your reaction inside Gringott's informed me of that much. So, to spare you a long – and I assure you, it is _very_ long – story of my life, I am an alchemist, which is a rather pretentious old title and occupation. For the most part, these days I stay mostly at home, keeping to myself and only intruding on the world when requested by some of the friends I've made. So tell me a bit about yourself, Mr. Potter." Nicolas said amicably. '_Dumbledore must never have told him about my role in the destruction of his stone_,' Harry thought to himself, growing disappointed that he felt he'd need to do so.

"Well, Mr. Flamel, I…I just wanted to apologize, first." Harry began.

"For knocking into me in Gringott's? Forget it, my dear boy, I've taken worse hits in the past and I'm sure I will again. 'Twas nothing." Flamel said, shaking off the apology.

"No, not for that…I'm kinda the one responsible for you being here." Flamel had a very questioning look on his face, as though he didn't understand, so Harry continued. "I mean, I didn't destroy the Stone or anything, but I was involved with the fight against Voldemort and so that's the reason that Dumbledore had to destroy it and why you and your wife are both dead now. Not that being dead seems to be so bad, I mean…truthfully its just like living, only with old people, I guess. I just wanted to say that, so if you want to rescind your invitation for supper, I understand completely." As Harry finished, the look of Flamel's face didn't seem to gain understanding, until he finally shook his head.

"I think, Harry, that you will be a most fascinating houseguest. Come, Perenelle awaits us." Flamel opened the door to his manor and called out, "Perenelle, dear, I have brought us a companion for supper!" A woman who held her years slightly better than Nicolas seemed to swept into the room, wearing an elegant dress similar in fashion to many that he'd seen while traversing London's streets.

"Hello, Nicolas dear. And just who is this strapping young man?" She said, smiling at Harry warmly. She was rather thin but not terribly so, with a ready smile very much like Mr. Flamel's that made Harry seem more welcome than he'd been in any place besides possibly Hogwarts.

"This, my dear," Nicolas said with a quick peck on Perenelle's cheek, "Is Harry Potter, who I met in Gringott's today. I think he will prove to be an interesting guest for us." Nicolas said cryptically.

"A Potter? Oh, lovely, my dear. Nicolas and I have known several Potters now, a lovely family, really. Nicolas, why don't you show our guest to the parlor while I tell Doris to finish up supper for us, then we can go to the dining room." Flamel led Harry over to a beautiful and very formal parlor; Aunt Petunia had always dreamed of a parlor like this to entertain guests, but Vernon had never had all that many important business associates to entertain, so their parlor didn't need to be nearly as exquisite, seeing use only rarely. Nicolas gestured to some type of recording quill with his wand, which sprung into action as he began another conversation with Harry.

"So, Mr. Potter, tell me again that story of how you are responsible for my death." He began pleasantly.

"Oh, right, I'm sure the details are missing…I guess I just figured you would've been told. Well, Dumbledore hid the Stone since Voldemort was after it so that he could get his body back. The defenses, however, were not adequate and he made his way to where it was kept. He was about to get ahold of it when I got there, bypassing the defenses myself, and we fought for awhile. I eventually got the stone out of the mirror and Dumbledore drove Voldemort away, but then he talked to you and you agreed that the Stone would be better off destroyed, so that you and your wife died. That was…four years ago, now. Back in the spring of '92." Harry explained. Nicolas looked quite pensive for a moment, then spoke.

"You'll forgive me if that sounds somewhat unreasonable to me, Harry. However, I must admit that I do not know a Dumbledore, I am equally unfamiliar with this Voldemort, my Stone is quite safe, and I assure you, Perenelle and I are quite alive, just as we have been for all of these past five hundred fifty years." Nicolas said. Harry's mouth dropped as he realized what Nicolas was implying. Harry was still alive, somehow!

"Now, Harry, let us begin with the assumption you made that I believe has altered your understanding of what is going on. I believe you think yourself to be deceased?" Harry nodded dumbly.

"Yes…I was hit by five Killing Curses. But…I suppose I've survived it before, when I was just a baby…" Harry said as he attempted to rationalize the situation before Flamel interrupted him.

"Another story I look forward to hearing at some point, I assure you. However, let us keep on track. Tell me about when you were hit by these curses. Surely it isn't commonplace where you are from to be attacked like that at such a young age…" Nicolas said, looking troubled.

"Oh, no. Well, for me it isn't that uncommon, really, but mostly it isn't. I was in the Department of Mysteries trying to save my godfather, but it turns out it was a trick by Voldemort – he's a Dark Lord, I guess I should say that, who's been after me since I was born – and his followers ended up chasing me through the other rooms in the Department of Mysteries. Three of us ended up in a room with a big hourglass in it, when a bunch of Death Eaters burst in. I think there were five or six of them. They had my friends tied down, but hit me with a curse that sent me flying into the hourglass, breaking it. The sand was still flying all around me when they all shot the Killing Curse at me. That's why I thought I was dead – I woke up in the streets of London and walked to the Leaky Cauldron to Diagon Alley and met you in Gringott's." Harry finally finished. Nicolas nodded thoughtfully at appropriate times and seemed to be deep in thought when Harry finished.

"I see, Harry. That is a very interesting tale, and one that I cannot help but believe, as so many elements of truth are involved and interweaved with such wild fantasy that it would be difficult to make up. I have a suspicion that I'd like to test and, should I prove right, it should surprise you. The year, Harry, is 1895, and it is early September. What was the last date you knew?" Nicolas questioned carefully.

"It was June, just after O.W.L.s, 1996." Harry said slowly, awe apparent in his voice.

"I see. It is as I suspected then, the wild magical energies in the sands of time were somehow charged with energy from the Killing Curses shot at you; their only method of discharging that energy involved sending you back in time, apparently just under 101 years in the past." Nicolas said calmly.

"What!? A hundred years in the past? That's crazy…this is a joke, right? I'm really dead, we're all dead, and dead spirits just like to play games?" Harry said somewhat hysterically.

"I'm afraid not, Harry. I am sorry." Nicolas said, apparently understanding Harry's reluctance to accept his situation.

"How do I get back? I need to save my friends – they're trapped with the Death Eaters. Do you know how to get me back home?" Harry asked hopefully. Nicolas smiled sadly before shaking his head.

"Alas, Harry, I do not. Normal Time-Turner use is for a few hours at a time, at most, and they are not meant to grant trips to the future. Your use, however, was far from normal, so there may be unpredictable effects, I am not sure." Nicolas said somewhat sadly to the boy.

"So that's it, then? I'm stuck in the past, while my friends are killed by Death Eaters in the middle of the Ministry of Magic?" Harry said, growing noticeably angrier. Nicolas merely regarded him calmly and a little curiously as he did so.

"Neither you nor I have any idea what happens to your friends, Harry, so you mustn't go making assumptions." The old man replied, still infuriatingly calm to a frustrated Harry.

"Well I guess we don't know much, do we? Where's Dumbledore, he always knows what to do!" Harry said, still irate.

"I believe I mentioned that unfortunately I have not met the acquaintance of anyone by the name of Dumbledore. Perhaps if you describe him, I might be of more assistance." Nicolas said; apparently the patience of a 600 year old knew few bounds.

"He's the greatest wizard of my time…he's ancient, really powerful, defeated Dark Lords – Voldemort was even scared of him. He's the Hogwarts Headmaster in my time. He's brilliant, too, and always knows everything. Um…Madam Marchbanks tested him for O.W.L.s and said that he was the most brilliant student she'd ever examined – maybe I could ask her." Harry said, thinking to himself everything he knew about Dumbledore, which was surprisingly little, considering Harry considered the man his mentor.

"You know, I have not been totally out of touch with Hogwarts these past years, and for some reason I believe that some of the teachers have spoken of a boy named Dumbledore who is considered something of a prodigy…Perenelle keeps up more with the teachers than I do, recently, perhaps she'd recall. Perenelle, dear! Do you recall the name of that prodigy at Hogwarts?" He called out the last part to Perenelle in the kitchen. Harry was confident, now. Dumbledore must have already accepted a teaching position or something, and would soon be Headmaster.

"Oh yes, Nicolas. My, my…Phineas was talking about him – most brilliant Transfiguration student he'd ever seen, and the boy was a Gryffindor! What was his name? Allert? Alan?" Perenelle said, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped into the door frame.

"Albus?" Harry said eagerly, a light in his eyes.

"Albus! That's it, Albus Dumbledore! Everyone says the boy will go places. I hear that his little brother just started also, but haven't heard if he's brilliant as well. I suppose Albus would be a third or fourth year now – goodness how children grow these days!" She said as she returned to preparing supper. Harry's face fell and realization hit him like a punch from Dudley – he was alone. There was no brilliant mentor to swoop in and save him like Dumbledore had so frequently. Merlin, Dumbledore was younger than Harry was! He hadn't even impressed Madam Marchbanks with his O.W.L.s yet; he was just a brilliant young kid.

"Well," Harry said somewhat sourly, "I guess Dumbledore won't be much help, will he? Maybe if I come back in fifty years…"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know this must be difficult for you, with legendary heroes like this Dumbledore being nothing but talented students, it seems." Nicolas seemed to change from serious to grinning in but a moment and concluded, "one thing I am sure of, however, is that knowledge of the future is a very dangerous thing, Harry. Extremely dangerous, particularly knowledge of one's own fate. That is why I shall not know what you told me of my own death. In fact, all I will know about you is that you are a time traveler from the future. Perenelle will be happy to Obliviate me of the particulars of what we have discussed regarding my future, and I ask that you please do not tell me any more specifics of the future. Nor should you tell anyone else even of your unique story, tempting as it may be. It is a unique burden for you to carry, Harry, but such is life." Perenelle took this opportunity to make her presence known as she carried out Nicolas' request of her, removing the story that Harry told him about his own death.

"Perenelle, my dear, let me fill you in. Harry is a resident time traveler, interestingly enough, and I must insist that he stay with us, at least temporarily. Harry, how does that deal sound?" Harry smiled weakly – this was all so much to absorb, after all, but nodded.

"Er, thanks. I don't really know what I'm going to do, so I appreciate the time to think about it."

"Do? Why dear, you must go to Hogwarts! After all, term only started a few days ago, I'm sure they'll excuse your absence to those first few classes. An education is very important, Harry!" Perenelle said sweetly to him. Nicolas nodded slightly.

"I agree, Harry, Hogwarts should be your ultimate destination. However, we do have a bit of a problem with that. O.W.L.s." Harry smiled then.

"I did alright on the tests, I think, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"You did not receive your results, Harry." Nicolas explained as though it should be obvious.

"Er, not yet…I imagine that they would have come in the summer." Nicolas nodded.

"Yes, that's correct. However, those results are required to enroll in N.E.W.T. level classes – your sixth year classes that you should be beginning. Therefore you cannot attend Hogwarts this year with classmates your own age. The O.W.L.s are administered once a year in June, so we will have to wait until next June for you to take those tests." Nicolas explained to Harry, who seemed quite disappointed.

"So I'll have to retake my fifth year?" Harry said in a whiny tone that seemed permanently a part of his voice this past year.

"That is one option. Another is that you could accept a generous offer from myself for private instruction in a quasi-apprenticeship from now until you are able to take the O.W.L.s, and then rejoin Hogwarts for N.E.W.T. instruction next September. Alternatively, you could strike out on your own – many students have only O.W.L.-level instruction, and I think you might be able to support yourself out on your own, though it would be difficult." Nicolas said; Harry, however, was stuck on the second option.

"You'd teach me? Brilliant, that sounds really great!" Harry said, excited – who knew how much could the ancient sorcerer teach him in a private setting.

"Indeed, with your unique background I think that might be the best option. Besides, I've not taken a real apprentice for years now, nor have we even taken in orphans. Though I think perhaps that should change. After all, to those whom much has been given, much is to be expected." Nicolas said wryly with a glance at Perenelle, who seemed to light up as she smiled.

"I do think you'll be a good influence on this old man, Harry. I've been trying to convince him for years now to take in a few more orphans, and here you come and he's convinced!" She swept him up in a hug, "Welcome to our home, dear. Now, let us all eat a proper supper, as a fine start to this little apprenticeship of yours." She said as she ushered them to the kitchen, where lay a fine spread or crusted honeyed ham that Harry eagerly devoured – it had been some time since his last meal at Hogwarts.

The rest of that night consisted of the logistics of his residence being fleshed out. House elves measured him and asked probing questions that he nervously answered; they seemed to him to have no correlation nor bearing on anything in particular, but the elves then led him to a room that, he admitted, was gorgeous and perfect with every amenity he could hope for. A four poster bed reminiscent of his own at Gryffindor tower, this one with sheets of stately blue that matched the other décor of the room. The room was fairly large, just a bit larger than Dudley's room at Privet Drive, and held a wardrobe, dresser, and a beautiful rug between them and his bed. One door led to his private bathroom, and the other an enormous private workshop – he supposed Flamel, Master Flamel now, would explain its use later.

Harry reached into the school robe he wore and took out one of most precious items with him, one of the few things he'd taken with him to past – the prophecy that Voldemort wanted so badly. Should he hear it? As Master Flamel had said, knowledge of the future is a dangerous thing; Harry's entire life had presumably been altered by this prophecy, if it was truly about he and Voldemort. Undecided, Harry put the orb on a shelf of his dresser for now. Harry finally said goodnight to the Flamels and retired for the evening, slightly more confident now that things weren't terribly wrong than he had been when he discovered himself on the streets of London.

"Good morning, Harry!" Harry opened his eyes to find a few slivers of sunlight creeping into his room through the shades. Nicolas Flamel was seated in a rocking chair in his room, smiling like the old alchemist seemed wont to do.

"Morning." Harry responded sleepily as he got out of bed and went to the wardrobe to put on something slightly more presentable than his pajamas.

"The elves have some breakfast ready for us, Harry. It is a big day, after all – the first of your apprenticeship! How exciting for you. I recall my own apprenticeship, the first one, mind you, years and years ago after I finished my O.W.L.s – that is the traditional time to begin an apprenticeship, of course – and the fond memories that have lasted until today that resulted from it. Now, you won't strictly be studying Alchemy while you're with me, Harry. Perhaps if you are interested we can slip some in, but instead I believe that we should study the traditional Hogwarts curriculum and ensure that you pass your O.W.L.s before limiting ourselves to Alchemy, if it can be called limiting." Flamel said as he and Harry walked to the dining room for breakfast.

"Er…I know a bit about alchemy, from school and all, but what exactly is it? I mean, besides making a stone so that you'll live forever." Harry asked tentatively.

"Alchemy has a long and glorious history. Truthfully, one can study nearly anything under the veil of alchemy, but I suppose that a proper, all encompassing definition would be that alchemy is the scientific study of things. So it is not, for instance, merely concerned with the creation of the Stone, though that occupied the thoughts of many obsessive alchemists through the years. We create many things, often magical artifacts, all sorts of potions," Harry's face dropped at this, "sometimes new spells…in that sense, studying Alchemy would be expanding your available topics beyond traditional Hogwarts work, rather than limiting it. In any case, we'll be reviewing Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, Runes, Arithmancy, some Magical Creatures, some Astronomy, some Magical History, a bit of Divination…perhaps even some Muggle Studies. Don't look so forlorn, there, Harry! After all, most of this will be enjoyable, practical work involving a multi-disciplinary approach. Besides, you already learned it all before, right?" Harry had a feeling that Hermione may have been inordinately excited by all of this, but it just sounded like a load of work to him. Thoughts of Hermione and his friends brought a pang of sadness to Harry when he realized he would never see them again. Breakfast was a typical English breakfast, with bacon, eggs, sausage, black pudding, fried mushrooms and tomatoes, and toast with orange juice; Harry noted the house elf Perenelle referred to as Doris ensured that he was getting quite enough of everything, and he swore once or twice that more eggs seemed to appear on his plate of their own volition.

"Now, Harry, we can head to one of the basement workshops where we can begin a survey of your knowledge." Nicolas smiled lightly – reflecting back on it, Harry thought it rather cruel in nature, but it could have been his own mind – before leading Harry downstairs. Nicolas then put the boy through his paces, forcing him to go through nearly the entire repertoire of spells taught at Hogwarts starting with Charms spells. Object manipulation, from a simple levitating spell to summoning and banishing spells, was focused on heavily, as were color changing charms, freezing charms, the spell to stop falling that Dumbledore used in Harry's second year that he barely remembered existed, silencing charms, unbreakable charms that Harry remembered well from Quidditch, and the Bubble Head charm, which Harry knew of and Flamel gave the instruction for. Transfiguration was next on Flamel's list, it seemed, as he was required to transfigure all manner of creatures small and slightly larger into a plethora of objects for the observing old man, not to mention Vanishing them all after he finished, which was the hardest part at first, but became noticeably easier at the end after all the practice. Flamel's favorite seemed to be the sequence at the end.

"Change this owl into a pair of swim trunks for me." Harry complied quickly, this was fairly simple. "My, how boring they've become in the future! Not to mention I wouldn't dare be clad in such a small pair of bathing trunks." The old man quickly modified the "future" swimsuit into one that suited him better. It was nearly twice the material of Harry's, but featured a flowery pattern, unlike the simple grey of Harry's pair. "Use a switching spell to switch the trunks and my robe." Harry handily left the wrinkled old man wearing the flowered swim trunks. "This sapling into a beach chair, next," he said as he conjured up a sapling. "Alright, now this mouse into a mint julep." Harry's mint julep must not have tasted quite right - likely because he'd never tried one before, nor had any idea what was in one - since Flamel had to alter it with his own wand before laying comfortably on the beach chair and grinning at an exhausted Harry.

"Defense next," he instructed with a smirk.

By the end of the day, Harry collapsed into bed from exhaustion. His defense repertoire went well, Flamel seemed to think, but the old man took copious notes on everything Harry did that day, and seemed to take even more during the Defense run-through, which Harry believed he excelled at. Following the Defense testing, Flamel brought out supplies for various Divination methods and told Harry to practice on one of the House Elves, Squeazy; after various interpretations, which Harry thought entirely too broad and vague, Flamel informed Harry that after Squeazy recovered from the fall from the stairs she was likely to suffer in the next week, she would be his personal elf. The elf seemed more than slightly terrified of this development.

The next morning, Harry awoke to a shaking bed – he supposed that was Flamel's form of an alarm clock – and a note on his door.

_Harry,_

_I am otherwise occupied for the entirety of today, but I do have a list of chores for you attached. Feel free to complete them and then enjoy the rest of the day! Further instructions for cleaning the stables and collecting herbs from the greenhouse are found outside those locations._

_Clean the stables._

_Collect herbs from Greenhouse._

_Check on my brewing potions (must be completed at around 10 am, then come back at 2 pm)._

_Take the Peugeot out to Muggle Salcombe, the nearest town, and collect the following groceries. The house elves occasionally attract more attention than we like._

_Your Master_

After breakfast, Harry decided to tackle the stables first; he had a few hours before needing to check on the potions, so he figured that caring for Flamel's horses would be a simple matter. Doris the house elf, the chef amongst them, directed him to the stables outside, where they promptly took his breath away. This was no mere barn with horses – though there were three beautiful riding horses. Instead, sections of the "stables" were more like tall roosts, where resided what must have been griffins, though Harry had never seen them before.

He entered the stables, then, taking note of the long list of animals and their care that Flamel had delineated on the instructions. Every animal needed some new type of care, it seemed. The horses needed to be watered and brushed, as did the Pegasi and the Abraxans (who only drank single malt whiskey, Harry remembered), griffins needed their claws trimmed and given fresh meat; hippogriffs, too, needed claw trimming, though they grazed with the horses and cows. The sheep and goats out grazing also needed to be brushed per Nicolas' instructions. Pig slop needed to be put in the trough for the pigs, as well as their water changed. Chickens in their coop needed fresh scratch to feed them, and various types of exotic birds, both magical and mundane, needed their enormous cages cleaned and food replaced. It all seemed a daunting task to Harry, until a postscript from Flamel reminded him.

_P.S. You are a wizard, Harry. Be sure you use some magic._

After that, Harry charmed the dozens of brushes Flamel kept to brush those animals, went about Vanishing the waste; along with a few well-placed Scouring charms, it went a long way. A water-producing charm that Flamel taught him the previous day refilled the troughs – and allowed Harry to quickly refine his casting technique so that it was more of a stream than a spurt like it had been – and a refilling charm kept the pig slop full. Each Abraxan took almost a full barrel of whiskey to satiate, which Harry levitated easily and set before them. An old broomstick, which seemed impossibly pokey to Harry, used to his Firebolt, allowed him to fly up to the griffins' roost and carefully trim their claws with a Severing charm after throwing them pieces of meat to keep their razor sharp beaks occupied. He did enjoy the griffin cubs, who growled ferociously at the intruder. All in all, it was more informative than most of his Magical Creatures classes had been, even when Hagrid occasionally risked their lives on dangerous creatures like Flamel seemed to do.

After countless spells to clean and care for the animals, it was finally time for him to check on the potions, which turned out to be another daunting task. Each of the many brewing potions – Harry counted 10 simultaneously – seemed to have a different set of steps needed; Flamel indicated on his meticulous instructions for each just how and why Harry needed to do something. These were not the often elementary instructions from his Potions classes, either, but complex stirring patterns, often incorporated with sprinkling in a certain amount of an ingredient in throughout the stir. Harry went through the myriad instructions carefully, not wanting to disturb his Masters' work. Also, Flamel clearly indicated just how destructive the errors Harry might make could be, so he expected that a bit of caution was a good thing in this instance.

The final potion, however, was the most interesting to him, as Flamel called for Harry to drop exactly five drops of his own blood into the potion. Harry had heard of dragon's blood as a potions ingredient, though he'd never used it, but human blood had only ever been used once in front of Harry, and he sincerely hoped that a ritual similar to Voldemort's resurrection was not happening any time soon. Trusting the seemingly kindly old man, however, and reminding himself to inquire about the potion, Harry warily completed the instructions for that potion, which seemed even more intricately complex than the others. After an hour and a half of potion-making, Harry was finally finished and ready to move on to the next task set to him before he was waylaid by Doris the house elf.

"Master Harry must take time for dinner, now." She said, hands on her hips as though daring him to object. Flamel obviously treated his elves well enough that they had gained some type of authority over humans; perhaps it was only because he was an apprentice that they, too, felt comfortable ordering him around. He took only fifteen minutes to eat, since he needed to work in the greenhouse before another round of potions tending.

Going into the greenhouse, he saw that it was about the size of one of Hogwarts' four. This one, however, had plants that he recognized as coming from the most dangerous of the Hogwarts' greenhouses right alongside harmless muggle species. Squeezing bubotuber pus with the dragonhide gloves reminded him of his time preparing for the Triwizard Tournament, though this time it seemed a bit of a growth spurt was a good thing – he was definitely able to squeeze more pus out of the black, slug-like creatures than he had in his fourth year. Unlike in his O.W.L. practical, he avoided a bite from the Fanged Geranium that Flamel kept as he added some dragon dung to the surrounding dirt. He remembered the Screechsnap plant from this past year's Herbology class, and was careful to avoid over-fertilizing the semi-sentient plant.

He was less successful avoiding the stinksap released from his clumsy handling of the Mimbulus mimbletonia that sprayed all over his shirt and left arm. After he looked up a "_Tergeo_" spell in one of Flamel's handy spellbooks strewn throughout the manor, he managed to siphon off the smelly sap, which numerous _Scourgify_ spells failed to entirely remove. A narrow escape from the Venomous Tentacula rounded out his trip to the greenhouses, so it was a Harry in less than entirely bright spirits that stormed into the manor house down to finish the next round of Potions steps.

Another two hours of mixing, stirring, and adding pinches of this and that to boiling cauldrons – not to mention adjusting the heat on each of those cauldrons – and Harry emerged from the sublevel of the manor to find Nicolas and Perenelle returned from their day out.

"Ah, Harry, I see you were working on the Potions ingredients just as I asked. Wonderful. How was your spare time today?" Harry made an incredulous face.

"Spare time? When was I supposed to have that?" He asked the old man. Nicolas merely smiled at him.

"Well, I didn't imagine the animals took all that much time. You awoke at six this morning, so if you finished that by seven, maybe eight at the latest, and then went to work in the greenhouses, you would have completed the first round of potions, took dinner afterwards, no doubt…then a quick grocery trip into town and back here to finish the potions and I daresay you'd have had at least an hour just now, one or two in the morning, and another one at least this afternoon. So four hours of free time to relax." Harry grew slightly agitated at the man's unflappable chipper attitude.

"Bloody hell! Working in the barn took me all morning until I had to run back and work on those blasted potions. I had _no_ idea how to do most of those instructions, so that took me about two hours. The house elves force fed me a quick meal and then I had to go to work in the greenhouses – I guess that wasn't terrible, even if I did get covered in stinksap and have to look up a spell to remove it – and then I came back and just finished the second batch of potion-making. I haven't even run into town…I figured from your note that you'd have been gone until late this evening, and I might get that time to relax!" Harry said in a raised voice. Nicolas shook his head at the boy's tone; before Harry knew what was happening, what must have been a large barrel of water dropped on his head, drenching him in icy water.

"Ah! What the hell!" He shouted angrily. Nicolas raised an eyebrow.

"Young man, perhaps that type of disrespectful tone and language are commonplace in the future – frankly I don't know and don't care to. However as your current Master, you will _always_ treat me with the utmost respect. You will also not use that type of language, and certainly not in front of Perenelle. Now, since this was your first offense, I think that little soaking is sufficient punishment, along with your sincerest of apologies and a guarantee against future behavior." Harry, still dripping, forced himself to calm down – after all, Nicolas had been nothing but extraordinary charitable towards him, and didn't deserve Harry's anger at himself.

"I am sorry, Master Flamel. I was frustrated at how long it took me to perform the tasks you set me in comparison to what you seemed to expect, along with some unfortunate happenstances in the greenhouse that left me in a stormy mood. I shan't behave nor talk like that again." Harry said contritely.

"Excellent. Your frustration was, perhaps, somewhat well-founded; after all, I just left you to mostly figure things out on your own, and that can be difficult to one used to a Hogwarts-type instruction. And if you can so quickly bury your anger, perhaps you might not be hopeless at Occlumency, and we can add that to our list of topics in which you need instruction." Nicolas said, his smile returning.

"My last Occlumency instructor didn't seem to think I'd ever accomplish it…" Harry said with a bit of a snort.

"Oh, you've had prior instruction? Marvelous. I'm sure you'll find me a more able teacher than your previous instructor, meaning no disrespect to him, of course. In either case, why don't you take that quick grocery trip into town while I inspect your work for the day?" Nicolas said, leaving Harry dripping. He remembered learning a Drought charm before the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, and managed to leave himself only slightly damp before setting out in Flamel's automobile, one of the original Peugeot models, Harry thought, down the road to Salcombe, the muggle town. A few groceries later – certainly much less than the weekly Dursley trip required – and he was back on the road, once more sporting goggles that he certainly thought made him look rather ridiculous, but were required in the open vehicle. He put the bags away, quickly figuring out where things went in the kitchen with the help of the house elves, and met Flamel in the family room of the manor.

"Harry, you did a fine job on your tasks today; it is good that you can demonstrate some independent thought and accomplish tasks like that – all too often that is lacking in those who have a Hogwarts education. Let's begin in the basement, shall we?" Harry followed Nicolas down the stairs, where Nicolas began a thorough critique of Harry's work; actually, he made Harry critique his own work and corrected him when he was slightly incorrect.

"Yes, Harry, that is essentially correct; you needed to add that powder as you finished each turn of that stirring pattern for maximum efficacy. Now, we'll just label that as 'Needs 1.5x dose', and we should be all set." The only potion he'd gotten entirely right, much to the pleasure of Flamel, was the difficult potion on the end that required his blood.

"Ah yes…a tricky little recipe, isn't it? Well, that one actually is special, and since you did so well on it, go ahead and drink it up." Harry looked skeptical, but drank down the potion as instructed. It was just as disgusting as every potion he'd ever drank, predictably.

"And that, Harry, is the first potion among these that most would consider an alchemical elixir. Your homework assignment is to take that recipe and figure out the effects of the potion – I think it will be a most suitable little project for you. Now, let's move on to the stables."

Harry had done a fine job on most of the animals – Flamel was even impressed at how well the griffins and hippogriffs seemed to take to him – but Harry did fail to perform several tasks that Flamel thought were rather crucial.

"Yes, Harry, cows and goats can be milked frequently; we usually use a twice a day milking schedule. The sheep should also be sheared once a day, because that wool is quite valuable."

"But they don't regrow wool that quickly!" Harry said as though Flamel were mistaken.

"You know, Harry, there is this wonderful little thing called magic…" Harry felt rather dumb as Flamel continued, "and a simple hair growth charm means that we could theoretically have a constant supply. I like to keep it to once a day, though. Now, those Abraxans look well-fed, and I can smell that you used the proper whiskey for them, they're quite particular about it…" The old man continued to go through Harry's every action in the barn, and in general was quite pleased with his performance. He also approved Harry's use of the charmed brushes; he said that with enough practice, Harry should be able to charm all of them simultaneously so that it takes much less time than it had previously. The two then headed to the greenhouses. This work was the most familiar to Harry, and so it only took a few cursory glances around for Flamel to declare it acceptable and they retired back to the house.

"All in all, a fine job, as I said previously, Harry. However, we do have to do something about those cows being milked regularly. Any ideas?" Flamel asked conversationally before supper was to be served.

"Er…can we ask an elf to do it? Otherwise you'd need hands or something…" Harry began slowly.

"If you are a pureblood with no knowledge of alchemy, then possibly your solution works. However, you are soon to be neither. The solution is that we will create a magical item that we enchant to perform that job for us. To that end, you will need some books for research purposes." Several books zoomed across the room at Flamel's casual, and silent, wand wave – Harry was very interested in how casually he performed his magic – and he handed them to Harry to peruse.

"So, Harry, what tasks do we need this object to perform; be sure to be specific." Flamel conjured up a pen and parchment for Harry to write on, and so he began, "We need it to milk the cow. So…a massaging charm of some kind. Um…we need it to do it automatically twice a day – every twelve hours?" At Flamel's nod, he continued, "and then it needs to put the milk where we want it." Flamel smiled.

"That's correct, Harry. So, here's your first little introduction to runes, then. We need a rune to tie that massaging charm to – I'll go ahead and recommend Jera, the rune of good harvest, for that as appropriate. To power that we'll need two power runes set up in a series, not in parallel, so that the first charge of the day draws from the first power rune, and the second one draws from the second power rune. Those will recharge daily. Your Vanishing charm is a good idea, we can vanish the milk immediately to a tank; I'd recommend a rune that perhaps deals with transportation for that; link that with a bit more potent of a power rune to keep it constantly going. Finally, we'll throw in a charm for comfort…link that with the Vanishing charm power rune and we're all set. It's as simple as that, Harry, a magical object for you to craft. I'd recommend using some basic reshaping transfiguration to make it the proper shape and all…the spell is here in this old book on blacksmithing." Another book came flying from the library to sit on Harry's pile and Flamel smiled at him, "Well, between your little potions research and this, I think you have enough to occupy you for tonight! Come on to supper, Harry, I believe Perenelle prepared a lovely French desert for us – she does tend to spoil my apprentices…"

Harry's schedule that day was fairly indicative of the rest of the week, in fact. Each morning he'd be shaken awake, then head for the stables after breakfast to perform those similar tasks set to him by Flamel; just as Flamel said, the practice with charming quickly meant that he was setting first a dozen and then the entire brush collection to work simultaneously. The sheep were quickly sheared and then their wool regrown, the griffins trimmed when they needed it – which was quite a bit more often than the griffins thought necessary, judging by their fussiness – the Abraxans given their whiskey and the chickens their scratch mostly through magic – Harry could now merely Vanish the feed to the proper stalls after some practice that led to more than a few messes. His time in the stables cut down to only a single hour, and most of that spent in the griffin aerie, he similarly was speeding through the greenhouses by the end of the week. The plants were trimmed for replacement potions ingredients when appropriate, but mostly it was just picking the few weeds hardy enough to survive close proximity to the Venomous Tentacula, which greatly enjoyed not only sneaking around the greenhouse dirt to attack any wayward bugs, but stealthily attacking the unsuspecting weeds for its own nourishment. Flamel's specimen seemed to have the attitude of the Weasley twins in mischievousness.

Flamel was mostly around the week for more explicit potions instructions downstairs. Unlike how Harry was taught in Snape's class, Flamel carefully used magic to charm stirring rods into the impossibly intricate patterns needed for his potions; Flamel showed Harry how to safely do so, but Harry was still unable to create a pattern more complex than one counterclockwise stir for every three clockwise stirs. Flamel led Harry through each of the many potions he brewed each day, and Harry found himself a surprisingly gifted student; he blamed Snape's poor instruction on never realizing this before. Flamel's many potions, such as the Draught of Living Death and the O.W.L. level Draught of Peace – both donated to St. Mungo's daily – made Harry far more familiar with the potions than Snape's lessons, and were supplemented by Flamel's constant chatter about the importance of hellebore leaves in the Draught of Peace while the more potent root powder was crucial to an Elixir of Invisibility, a potion beyond N.E.W.T. levels that Flamel said Harry would be brewing by the Yule holidays.

His two projects were also coming along; the cow milking device only took him most of the first night and following day to get a prototype together. A bit of advice from Flamel and a correction of one rune, copied copiously from the texts Flamel had Summoned, and They fit the second attempt on the cow with success. He made three more devices for the other cows the following day – it was much easier once he knew what he was doing from the first prototype and had mastered the shaping spells, so it went quickly. The potion, however, was the trickiest assignment. The ingredients were many and varied, and the instructions far more complicated than even the N.E.W.T. level Draught of Living Death, which was far beyond anything Harry had brewed at Hogwarts. Use of Flamel's well-stocked library, particularly the section on blood alchemy that detailed use of such a small amount of blood in a potion (whose effect, Harry learned, was to increase potency and extend the duration of effects to permanency when the potion was used by that wizard), led him to believe that the potion was somewhat related to a Strengthening Solution, which was an O.W.L. level potion that Harry messed up terribly the previous year in class. He was still deducing the exact effects of the potion, however, when Flamel had a surprise in store for him at the end of the week.

"Yes, young Elwood, that is correct, we can all do special things." Harry heard as Flamel came in; Harry had been in the library all evening researching the possible effects of falcon retinal fluid that was a very rare ingredient in the potion. "Yes, with that wand I bought you, you can do magic just as you witnessed me perform, I promise. Harry! Do come out of that library, Harry, I have someone for you to meet!" Flamel said, calling into the library. Harry put aside the book and rubbed his eyes slightly before heading towards the Alchemist. Beside the old man was a young boy not old enough for Hogwarts, possibly around eight or nine.

"Harry, this is Elwood Windsor, a new ward of the manor. Elwood, this is Harry, we took him in a week ago and he'll be showing you some of the new magic you'll be learning." Harry's eyebrow raised slightly at this, but he didn't object; after all, he had enjoyed teaching the D.A.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry," Elwood said, obviously trying his hardest to be polite. Harry shook the offered hand and replied, "Likewise, Elwood."

"Now, Elwood, why don't you hurry along to Perenelle while I talk with Harry. There you go, lad." Nicolas watched the boy leave with a grin, "Ah, the antics of children. You'll never find something greater than the pleasure of watching them grow – I know I haven't in all my years. Now, I believe we must speak about duties for you and Elwood. Perenelle will begin his instruction in basic little charms, and he'll help her out in the greenhouse – Perenelle loves gardening, so that is fine. However, you will still be responsible for the more dangerous plants, such as the Tentacula and the Fanged Geraniums, the Mandrakes. I'd also like you to instruct Elwood in the care of some of the animals; perhaps refilling charms for the pig slop and water troughs, some cleaning charms on the stalls, that kind of thing. You'll still be charming all of the brushes each morning and trimming the griffins; the somewhat dangerous tasks he'll take over eventually, I think, but we'll see how it goes. Once he becomes comfortable with everything and doesn't need your supervision, probably next week or so, then you'll spend some of your time at the Reserve tending those animals." Flamel said easily.

"What's the Reserve?" Harry asked questioningly – he'd never seen it on the property before. Flamel just smiled in response, and told him to continue his potions work.

"Alright, Elwood, try that levitation spell again. Don't forget to flick your wand this time." Harry said for the umpteenth time to the little boy. He'd forgotten how long it had taken his classmates to master even that simple spell all those years ago. The boy was doing well, for the most part, though. He had particularly taken to the creatures he'd formerly believed mythical, and was constantly following Harry to see the Abraxans or pegasi, begging Harry to fly the boy up to see the griffin cubs, which he affectionately named Ripper and Claws, and watching the magical birds in their cages. Finally, Elwood got the Levitation spell correct and Harry watched approvingly as the Abraxan whiskey barrel was put into the cage properly under Elwood's own power.

"Very good. Don't forget to clean out the cage while they're drinking it." Harry said. With a glance outside, Harry cancelled the charmed brushes and a muttered "_Accio_" had them all zooming towards their bucket in front of him as he made his way towards the potions laboratory.

It had been a week since Elwood arrived, and the boy had taken eagerly to the chores that were once Harry's responsibility, leaving Harry with more time for Flamel to assign projects and research topics. He'd finally figured out the effects of Flamel's mysterious blood potion when its effects on him became more apparent. It acted as a bit of a Strengthening Solution, Engorgement Potion, Wit-Sharpening Potion, and even made his eyesight razor sharp. Before he deciphered the effects, Flamel had been correcting his glasses at night so that he failed to notice, but after he turned in the project, Flamel informed him about all of the effects. Apparently it was very commonplace in ages past for Muggleborn wizards to have health deficits due to poor nutrition in childhood, while wizards usually had more than enough food thanks to replicating charms and refilling charms, so an alchemist ancient even to Nicolas designed the recipe to correct the deficit. Nicolas had improved the potion significantly as his Masterpiece in Alchemy, and so it was that Harry found himself no longer struggling as much to hold the griffins still while he clipped their claws, and he'd even had to lengthen the robes he'd gotten a bit before the house elves provided a new wardrobe for him. It wasn't a significant change – he was still shorter than Ron and he was by no means stronger than a muggle bodybuilder like Dudley had used to pretend to be – but it was noticeable to Harry himself.

After that project was finished, Harry began magically modifying the stables with runic designs like he had the cow milking devices on Flamel's instructions – the large stalls all had permanent cleaning charms on them, the water troughs refilled and were constantly cleaned, and the pig sty, despite the pigs' best efforts, was fairly immaculate. That last bit had been Harry's most recent, and difficult, challenge. It required three cleaning runes and six total power runes to keep up with the pigs' mess, and Harry's hand was rather sore from all the carving with the hammer and chisel by the end of that session. He was, however, particularly proficient in carving power runes now, much less simply drawing them on a page like was usual in the Hogwarts Ancient Runes class. Arithmancy was the only class that he had yet to make significant breakthroughs under Flamel's instruction; Harry was not yet to a point where he could do any projects involving the complicated topic, and that seemed to be how he learned best so far during his apprenticeship. Despite the slow progress, however, Flamel kept him busy with assignments that required him to page through the basic Arithmancy book he'd been provided with and calculate the required formulas.

Another important skill that Flamel had began teaching Harry the previous day was Apparition, which Flamel assured Harry was crucial to continuing his apprenticeship duties, though he wouldn't quite reveal just why. Flamel believed that the Ministry method was fairly ridiculous, and explained it to Harry in simpler terms.

"You focus on the destination, imagine yourself there. Then, you will your atoms to be there in a somewhat forceful manner. You'll get the hang of it, just focus." He had said simply, leaving Harry to stubbornly will himself across the yard. Harry remembered that he had once ended up atop the roof at primary school when being chased by Dudley, and tried to recreate that happening as he finally began to Apparate across the grounds of the manor with loud 'crack's. Nicolas seemed pleased that Harry had yet to splinch himself – it was the sign of a determined mind, apparently, and another sign that boded well for future Occlumency lesson success.

"Elwood looks to be doing a fine job at the stables, Harry." Flamel said as Harry returned from the younger boy's recent success with the Levitation charm. Harry looked up from the potion he'd been completing for St. Mungo's – apparently they had a rash of injuries lately and needed a large supply of Blood Replenishing Potions; Harry remembered how crucial that potion had been to save Mr. Weasley the past year, so he tried particularly hard to get it right. This was his fourth potion, and each of the first three had been acceptable for Flamel and the hospital, so he was beginning to be much more confident in these particular instructions.

"Yeah, he got the Levitation charm working today and managed to feed the Abraxans their whiskey. He's doing pretty well, a lot better than I thought was possible for such a young kid." Harry said honestly. And it was true, too, since he'd certainly not been at that level even after a week's instruction at Hogwarts.

"One of the benefits of being around capable adult wizards, I think. In either case, it is time to expand your duties, I believe. I mentioned working at the Reserve last week? Come along, I'll Side-Along Apparate you this first time so you know where it is." Nicolas and Harry popped away quietly and emerged in a picturesque virgin forest roped off by three slender golden chains that apparently acted as fencing.


	2. The Reserve

**A/N: **Thank you to all of the reviewers! This story has generated a lot more interest much more quickly than my previous story, _Unlocked Knowledge_. I will be continuing that story next, for all interested parties; it is not abandoned. Somewhat unfortunately school, exams, simultaneously dating two girls, and other real life things have interfered to give me less time than I used to have to devote to writing, so I took some time off from it. Things have slowed down a bit without school, though, so I'm back! That hiatus instilled a bit of block into my _Unlocked Knowledge_ story, which has recently been overcome, and thus the long wait. I should update that story well within a week, I should think.

_**Harry Potter and the Alchemist's Apprentice**_

Chapter Two: The Reserve

"Welcome to the Flamel Magical Creatures Preserve, Harry, one of the best-kept secrets in England." Nicolas said with broad gestures toward the part of the forest partitioned off by the three golden chains. "Only a very few are allowed to enter, and those selected rarely substantiate the rumors that abound about this place. Amongst wizard children, it is particularly legendary, for their minds fabricate creatures far more splendid than have actually ever existed; respected naturalists, however, can occasionally come here and study some animals in, for the most part, very natural surroundings. Some of my finest work exists here: altering the environment – sometimes quite radically – to suit some of the more exotic creatures. I even built a pyramid two centuries ago with some friends to house a sphinx properly. It was quite tricky work, but we ended up replicating some ancient Egyptian curses that a Curse-Breaker acquaintance of mine introduced me to." Harry was suitably impressed; if creatures like sphinxes were housed within, that slender gold chain must have been much stronger than it looked.

"I'm not really an expert in caring for creatures like this…maybe you should trust someone else with this…" Harry began, intimidated.

"The creatures in here don't need much attention like the stables, Harry. I've completed some modifications not unlike your own work, though more comprehensive, to take care of them. However, some of the creatures have valuable by-products that you need to collect. The unicorns – we have twelve, now, and two foals, it's really quite the herd – for instance need their tails brushed and the hairs given to Ollivander for wands. We are, actually, the sole providers of unicorn hair for him." At this, Flamel handed Harry an ornate silver brush with which to brush the unicorns. "We certainly don't kill enough dragons, however, to provide for him, so that comes from a Romanian preserve. Dragon dung, however, I need for my greenhouse as you well know, so you'll be collecting a bit of that from the Hebridean Black family that is in those caves up there. Also dragon eggshells, if there are any to be had that have hatched. Finally, the Basilisk needs to be milked for its potent venom, and gather its shed skin. That is probably the hardest job, Harry, and I think the best way to do it –" Flamel started before Harry smirked and interrupted him with, "Actually, I don't think that one will be a problem, Master. What about the strategy for dragon dung collection?" Flamel eyed him somewhat oddly at the pronouncement of the ease with which he could handle a basilisk, but didn't object.

"Alright, then, I'll leave Agnes to your ministrations. As for the dragons, make sure they aren't around the droppings, and try to go after they've been fed. It really shouldn't be a problem, Harry; you can Apparate now, after all. Use that to get out of trouble if you need it. Well, I'll leave you here to explore for the rest of the day. Be sure to greet the merpeople for me, and try to remain whole and fully functional if you can. Perenelle will surely be quite upset if you miss supper." Nicolas grinned and Disapparated with a 'pop', leaving Harry alone in a forest filled with incredibly deadly monsters. '_Thinking about it that way won't help anything, Harry; stay positive…this might be fun…for Hagrid._' He managed a bit of a chuckle at that. Hagrid would, of course, die a happy half-giant for the chance at a few minutes here, if Flamel was at all telling the truth about this place. Harry looked for a break in the chain anywhere, but, not finding one, he merely Apparated across the barrier – Nicolas had recommended it, after all.

The forest on the other side of the chain seemed just as unremarkable as it had from the outside – Harry was almost expecting a wild jungle or scorching desert to pop up suddenly, from the little description Flamel offered before leaving.

'_Well, I guess its time to find a herd of unicorns, a family of dragons so that I can steal their dung, and a basilisk. At what point did things like this become commonplace?_' Harry reflected in a rather whiny self-commentary. As he traipsed through the woods blindly, he had the first real chance since he'd arrived in this time period to really be alone with his thoughts. Flamel – and, Harry admitted, he himself – had assigned so many tasks and so complicated were they that Harry had been to busy. Even Hermione hadn't ever kept the kind of manic schedule Harry had adopted lately, he said with a snort. She'd be so proud of his work, no doubt bursting into tears. '_But no, I'll never see her burst into tears. Nor Ron get excited as he makes a save in Quidditch – when he beat Slytherin I think it was the happiest I'd ever seen him!_' Harry wiped away some stray water from his eye – must have been the pollen in the forest or something, not the thought of never seeing his friends again, he thought wryly, when he suddenly froze. Something very large was near him, he realized, and he'd been too wrapped up in his self-pity to even realize it. Large, deep breaths – '_Probably the kind dragons take just before attacking humans_,' – were coming from his right. Only shaking slightly at the prospects of again facing a dragon, this time without his Firebolt, he drew his wand and slowly and quietly as he walked closer to the right. Emerging in a clearing after passing by some thick brush, he was staring into the face of something enormous. With large horns.

Thankfully, it wasn't a dragon, and was just grazing in the meadow – this must have been one of those climate changes Nicolas talked about, because it was nearly 20 degrees hotter after he emerged from the forest and looked like an African savannah. The enormous grayish creature, seemed to ignore Harry as he thought about what it was. Large, big horn…Bicorn? No, Graphorns are purple, so it wasn't that…Erumpent. Hagrid had written four requests to the Ministry to get one in Harry's fourth year, he remembered, but the climate was too cool and he thought it wouldn't be happy, so he eventually dropped the idea. Nicolas apparently hadn't let a silly thing like weather stop him, so this was likely the only specimen on the continent. Now what could Harry remember about the creatures? Little, as he never paid much attention to lectures without demonstrations; he was cursing himself for that now.

"Good Erumpent…don't hurt the poor little wizard." The Erumpent raised its head at the sound of his voice and seemed to glare at him a bit. Harry backed away, back into the forest, from the dangerous creature and quickly walked along the edge of the forest, thinking that if he stayed between two different climates, maybe there wouldn't be as many encounters; he had no evidence to back this up, but did hope dearly.

"_Hunt…meat…kill…_" He heard suddenly as he was still in the forest. He looked to his left, away from the savannah, and saw a massive cave that looked to descend into the earth.

"_Damnit!_" He heard himself hiss angrily. He contemplated shutting his eyes quickly, and also just Apparating far away from the cave, but merely kept a firmer grip on his wand as he advanced towards the cave, just passing the mouth.

"_Hello, is anyone there?_" Harry called out, still aware of his hissing. He hoped this might give the basilisk pause, though it hadn't exactly worked with the last one he'd encountered.

"_I smell manflesh, yet hear the great Tongue of Serpents. How can this be?_" When he heard the reply from inside the cave – he'd only advanced perhaps 20 feet or so – Harry immediately shut his eyes, thinking that he needed some other way to see.

"_Hi, I'm Harry…I've always been able to talk to snakes, it's kind of a gift, I guess. So I was wondering if we could maybe talk without you turning me into stone? I like my flesh the way it is, so…_" Harry froze in the next instant as he felt the light touch of a snake's tongue flicker across his ear. The basilisk was right behind him now, and probably encircling him; for some reason, it was more terrifying in this manner than it had been when he was twelve and it was outright attacking him.

"_You have nothing to fear from my gaze, human. I do not care to eat rocks, and so I spend most time with my eyes shut. Unlike the things I eat, snakes have much more sensitive senses, and therefore do not need to use vision to navigate. And I assure you, my senses are a thousand times more sensitive than any other snake you might meet._" At this proclamation, Harry lit up his wand with a thought – the first time he'd done nonverbal magic, not that he was aware of it – and he opened his eyes just a crack. The basilisk's head was perhaps two feet in front of his own, and its eyes were indeed closed. The rest of the cave was pretty much as Harry expected; slightly wet, there was a trickle that ran near Harry's feet that probably collected at some point deeper in the cave, and smelled strongly of basilisk.

"_So what brings you to me in this manner, human? Even the old human does not do so in such an arrogant fashion._" The snake questioned.

"_The old man – I think you mean Nicolas – can't speak to snakes either, though. From what little I've encountered, you snakes don't usually hurt Parselmouths…unless instructed by another Parselmouth, I guess. Anyway, instead of finding another way to get some of your venom, I just figured I'd ask for some. Oh, I'd also like to collect your shed skin, if that's alright._" Harry said, readying a quick Apparition in case the basilisk took offence.

"_A pity. I rather enjoyed my attempts to bite the old human, but he would be a formidable opponent even for me. Very well, I will allow you a sample of my venom. I believe the collection jar that the old man used is lying in the corner_," the snake gestured near the entrance with his tail – something snakes seemed wont to do, Harry thought as he remembered his encounter with the snake at the zoo – and Harry removed himself from the coils of the basilisk to retrieve it. It was a simple glass jar with runes etched in silver running all along the exterior, and the top was covered in what looked like rubber. Harry even recognized some of the runes and was able to guess at their function – the power runes were obvious and plentiful, and there were the runes Harry used for transportation, so he guessed the venom would be Vanished to Nicolas' lab. The snake, apparently knowing how this worked, spread its mouth wide in a matter that caused Harry to gulp only slightly before it drove its fangs through the rubber top and acid green venom spewed into the jar. Sure enough, when the venom filled the jar up enough to start pooling at the bottom, the venom began Vanishing, no doubt filling up one of Flamel's jars in a potions laboratory, never filling up much beyond that slight pooling. After nearly a minute of milking the venom, the basilisk removed its fangs from the jar – causing the rubber to seal back up, no doubt the result of another rune pattern – and Harry replaced the jar from where he found it near the mouth of the cave.

"_So, human, what are you to do now that you have obtained my venom?_" The basilisk questioned.

"_Er…well, I need to collect dragon dung and unicorn tail hair still. The unicorns I'm not too worried about, but any idea how to avoid dragons?_" The basilisk was quiet for a moment, then responded.

"_Why does that old man use a speaker of the Great Tongue as a mere errand boy? Surely a wizard of lesser importance could be used for these simple tasks!_" The basilisk sounded somewhat angry as it continued, "_If the ancient Dark Lords knew of how their legacy had fallen, they would be greatly displeased! After all, they were the greatest wizards of their time. Their spells beat down their enemies and easily swept aside the sheep of the land, tearing nations and power as they rightfully deserved, and now you, the only Speaker to have found this Great Serpent, are a mere errand boy for an old man! Why?_" Harry was somewhat paralyzed in more than a little fear at the temper tantrum the basilisk seemed to be throwing – who knew how unpredictable snakes could get, after all?

"_Er…I'm actually the old man's apprentice. He's kinda been training me for a few weeks now, and some of my tasks, which I think are really excuses to practice spells, involve gathering this stuff. For instance, I'm going to need to Vanish the dragon dung all the way to the Flamel manor, and that's good practice using that spell. Things like that; I'm more than just an errand boy. Well, sometimes. The old man, my Master, is really knowledgeable and pretty famous too, so I'm learning a lot from him._" Harry said placatingly; his words seemed to calm the great snake some.

"_That is well, then. It is the way of things for the young to learn from the old. Learn well, young Speaker, for it is the natural order that Speakers dominate amongst humans. Enjoy your games with the dragons and unicorns._" The basilisk withdrew deeper into the cave after its farewell, and Harry allowed the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding out. In the distance, he could see the shed basilisk skin – it was at least 30 feet in length, though noticeably smaller than Slytherin's basilisk had been – and decided to gather it too for Flamel, shrinking it with several uses of the Reducing charm.

Finally, Harry departed the basilisk cave, almost dreading the expected return visits that would no doubt also leave him feeling threatened by the monstrous snake, and emerged once more into the forest to search for the next creature on his list – the unicorn herd.

Signs of the creatures were all over the forest, Harry knew, though he'd yet to glimpse a sight of them. Here or there was a gleaming white hair unmistakably from their tails caught in a bush or twig; tracks and droppings littered the forest where the herd had passed through, so Harry decided to merely follow the tracks, since they had to eventually lead him in the right direction.

Unfortunately, three hours later this left him still following the tracks, though he'd skipped trails a few times to find more recently made tracks, to be sure, and he was just about to give up entirely. Just as the thought of giving up – not to mention the thought of clipping all of the creatures' damn tails entirely so that he'd never have to track them again – popped into his mind, he emerged upon a beautiful spring bathed in rainbow light, where eight unicorns, including the two foals, were drinking and playing at the pond. Also, to his surprise, were three leprechauns bouncing off of the giant toadstools near the pond's edge. Knowing how skittish unicorns could be from his lessons with Professor Grubbly-Plank and Hagrid, Harry very slowly approached the gleaming equines. As he neared, they made no attempt to run, but the adults in the group were obviously keeping a close eye on him. The two golden foals, however, seemed to be quite glad of the new plaything they'd found, and trotted over to Harry, causing the adults' heads to snap even quicker towards him. Harry began by simply stroking the two young unicorns' necks a bit; his lack of an assault seemed to put the other unicorns somewhat at ease, so he carefully and slowly withdrew the brush that Flamel had handed him, using it to stroke the tails of the young foals; he was rewarded with four tail hairs from this work, not a bad haul, all things considered.

He was quite surprised, however, to see that now, three silver unicorns – this indicated that they were slightly older than the golden foals, he knew from Hagrid's class – were also making their way up to him and curiously regarding him. These, too, were rubbed affectionately by Harry – one of these even nuzzled him a bit like the foals had – and then their tails were brushed, leaving him with a total of ten tail hairs. Finally, one of the large white unicorns, the largest that was in the clearing, came up to him apprehensively as the silver unicorns had before it. Following the same pattern, he was this time rewarded with three more hairs double the length of those obtained from the younger unicorns. Just as he was about to back slowly away, for none of the other mature unicorns seemed anxious to approach him, all of the gorgeous creatures looked up suddenly and bolted from the clearing. The leprechauns, too, Harry noticed, had left abruptly – their songs and laughter no longer like chimes ringing. Finally, Harry also saw that it seemed to get darker, and the rainbow was no longer shining on the stream. Almost instantly knowing that he'd rather remain ignorant, he glanced up into the sky, where he instantly panicked as he saw a sight he wished he'd seen the last of in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Sprinting to the edge of the clearing seemed to have no effect on the dragon, however, besides forcing it to knock over two full-grown trees before it grabbed Harry in one of its claws, which painfully dug into his side.

"Ouch! Does this have to sting that much?" Harry cried angrily as the burn ointment got into one of the grooves carved into his flesh by the assaulting dragon; possibly, it was actually from one of the trees he'd hit one of the times he'd been dropped, he wasn't sure. Nicolas merely grinned at his rather rough-looking apprentice.

"I do believe that I told you to Apparate away from the dragon, not wrestle it." Nicolas said, humming as he handed Harry two more jars of something or other. Harry vaguely recognized one as murtlap essence, which he'd become quite familiar with after Umbridge's detentions.

"I did Apparate away!" Harry protested weakly. Nicolas grinned at him.

"Well, I suppose you did, in a way. Next time, don't use the same clearing where he first picked you up as a destination, however. Someplace safer would have been preferable…possibly here? Maybe back in the basilisk cave, though…you seem to have a rapport with it, it usually takes me most of a week to get that much venom from Agnes." Nicolas said lightly as he rubbed salves on the other side of Harry's body.

"Why do you call it that, anyway? I wasn't aware that basilisks have names. Besides, I think it's male." Harry said somewhat shortly; understandable from the day he'd had.

"Oh, you are quite right. That plume on its head – definitely a sign that it's male. But then, so was Agnathus the Vile, who hatched the basilisk just before suffering his defeat at my hand those 500 years ago. My, I was as fresh as a spring chicken then! Of course, I had to sprint off because of that goblin business just afterward with Eargit the Ugly, who I had to negotiate with and offer a place on the Wizard's Council in 1394. In exchange, the Goblins freed up some of the land that had been long hidden by their ancient sorcerers, and I was personally granted the forest in which to keep the basilisk away from anything sentient that it might kill. I named the snake after Agnathus once I got back home, which I thought was fitting." Nicolas' explanation was a little winded and contained many nuggets of fascinating history, as Harry now expected from the old man who'd made a great deal of that history.

"Alright, Harry, now I believe that you owe me two jars of burn-healing paste, one of murtlap essence, and a bit of dittany – for the scarring, you know. So you can do that after we eat some supper with Perenelle and Elwood. That reminds me, Harry: I do believe you should go by a surname other than 'Potter' while you're here in the past. The Potters, after all, have been well-known since even before the Norman invasion –" Harry decided to cut off the Alchemist this time, even if he was marginally interested in the history of his family.

"That's a good point, Master. I also assume that I should use a false name around Elwood?" Harry inquired.

"Precisely. Much as he seems to be a trustworthy lad, it might slip his tongue, not to mention being plucked out of his head by a Legilimens. Safer for everyone the less he knows, I believe." Nicolas said.

"I agree. So what should my new name be?" Harry asked. Truthfully, he didn't mind anything but "Malfoy". "Snape" would be just as bad, though, he conceded.

"Why not use Elwood's name. Everyone at school will believe you brothers anyway, so I think it perfect." Nicolas said with a smile, "not to mention, I think Elwood would be most pleased – he's really taken to you, Harry."

"Yeah, it's been fun having a little brother, and getting to teach him and everything. Makes me wonder if I'd have had one if my parents weren't killed." Nicolas smiled sadly at this and ushered Harry upstairs, then, for supper.

"Harry, where were you? Did you have a Potions accident? It looks WICKED!" Harry was glad Elwood thought so, because personally he thought that having half his face, left arm, and side covered in orange paste was less than awesome; his right side, along with parts of his left, were covered in the murtlap and dittany to aid healing of the claw marks and tree scrapes and abrasions.

"Dragon accident, actually. And really Elwood, less than cool. More painful than wicked, I think." Perenelle rolled her eyes at this exclamation.

"Dragons, Nicolas? After two weeks? Goodness I thought you'd learned better than that how to keep these apprentices of yours alive. Really, Harry, I apologize, but I'll have to take a firmer hand in your education from now on – Nicolas really can be such a child sometimes, even if he's had ample time to grow up. What on earth were you doing with dragons, anyway, dear?" Perenelle asked lightly. It was rather refreshing behavior for an adult female, he thought, much as he appreciated Mrs. Weasley's smothering. Perhaps it was why Charlie ended up chasing after dragons in the first place.

"Well, I was actually obtaining unicorn tail hairs when it kinda swooped down on me. I panicked stupidly and tried to run instead of Apparate away. After a bit of a struggle, I ended up getting away, so I Apparated back here." Harry said, giving a rather amended version of the story.

"Were you scared?" Elwood said with his eyes wide. Harry looked at the boy incredulously.

"Of course I was scared – it was a dragon! That was the most scared I've been in a while, because I was alone, too. Things like that are not quite as scary when you have friends with you. Still scary, though, of course. Haha, I think anyone who isn't scared of dragons is pretty crazy, Elwood." Harry chuckled slightly even though it hurt his burned face – Hagrid was certainly at least partly mad, in his book; pet Acromantulas, training a Giant to speak English, certainly all fairly crazy.

"I'd have been scared, too, I think. Maybe not if you were there, though, Master Nicolas. You'd have run him right off, right?" The little boy said as he turned to Flamel, who was sipping his wine nonchalantly.

"Oh, I don't know – that big Hebridean male is pretty ferocious, Elwood. Perhaps Perenelle and I together would be better matched against him. Though I have been practicing my Tickling Charm, so who knows how we'd fare…" Harry smirked a bit and rolled his eyes at the reference to the Hogwarts motto. Nicolas was crazy enough that it had likely come from something he'd done, Harry thought.

"I believe that is quite enough talk of dragons, Elwood. Why don't you tell Harry about your lessons with me this afternoon?" Elwood eagerly launched into a full play-by-play of the lesson. He'd learned his first color-changing charm – he chose to learn blue – and had promptly begun changing everything he could in the house to the color. Perenelle herself had been blue three times throughout the day when Elwood snuck up on her; Harry thought he might have discovered why a Statue had been erected against Underage Sorcery that had nothing to do with abuse of Patronus Charms, but kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.

Soon enough dinner was over and Harry was in the Potions lab with Nicolas as he began on the two burn-healing pastes simultaneously. A thought about some of the work he'd done came to him as Nicolas was sitting at a bench penning what appeared to be a tome.

"Master Flamel? I couldn't help but notice that the Reserve had loads of spells on it. Not to mention wards and everything." He began. Flamel looked up and straightened his glasses, nodding.

"Yes, of course. Those creatures are in many cases quite rare and require constant care, so I ensured it for them."

"Of course. But the animals here at the stables need constant care too, and I believe you mentioned that you hadn't had an apprentice in quite a few years. Did you used to do all the work each morning yourself?" Harry questioned.

"Oh good heavens no, my time is much too called upon for me to do that most mornings, Harry." Nicolas said with a smile.

"I figured as much. But then why weren't there any wards or any magic at all on the stables when I arrived? I had to look all of that up and erect them, when you could have done it any time in the past six hundred years." Harry said, making a point that had been bugging him for some time.

"I don't believe that I ever said that there were no wards when you arrived. I have had many apprentices over the years, Harry, and each of them has erected wards similar to your own on those stables during their time here." He said, returning to his work.

"So you took them down when I got here so that I would have to do more work and learn them and everything?" Harry got no reply from the old man, and so went back to his cauldrons, unable to deny that though the work seemed trivialized, he had certainly learned a lot from the repeated warding of the stables; he certainly would be able to keep a nice farm after he finished Hogwarts, he reflected.

"I have a bit of a different assignment for you tonight, Harry," Nicolas said as Harry was cleaning his cauldrons from the long night of medicinal potion brewing. "After all, you had an exciting day, so the assignment should reflect that, I believe." Harry began dreading dragon wrestling as an addition to his morning chores, but was thankfully mistaken.

"All I want is a simple essay – can't have you lose that skill before going back to Hogwarts, after all. Detail your methods of fighting off the dragon, and why they were ineffective. You should include positive aspects of your strategy, and what you'll do if put in a similar situation as you continue to collect dragon dung for my greenhouse plants." Nicolas smirked what Harry recognized as his malicious grin when Harry inquired as to the length and replied, "Whatever you feel appropriate, my boy." Harry knew from this response that it would be a long night as he penned the essay.

_...Aside from my failure to properly utilize Apparition to escape from the deadly situation, several successes were made in dealing with the dragon. While in its claws the second time, I managed to force the creature to release me when I hit it with a Releasing Charm. Upon later reflection, this is a significant achievement due to dragons' usual resistance to magic of this type, and it is good to know that that particular charm is effective for me against dragons. _

_Unfortunately, the creature then released me above a forest, causing me additional abrasions and bruises as I fell through the branches to hit the ground. In the future, a Momentum Stopping Charm would be effective for stopping my descent from causing injury; another method might be a Featherweight Charm, which would reduce the force of impact. _

_After the dragon breathed fire on the forest in which I'd landed, I should have cast a flame freezing charm, instead of allowing the fire to burn me. Furthermore, I should have quickly moved from the location where I landed from the fall, which may have made the dragon less likely to hit me with its breath. Apparating back to the manor after I suffered the burns was probably the only thing that I did absolutely correctly throughout the encounter._

Harry shook his hand a bit the next morning as he finished up the last foot of his essay for Flamel, his hand cramping slightly as he released the quill. After he finished the essay, he made sure to cast each of the alternative spells he'd mentioned in it, and was quite pleased. His Momentum Stopping Charm was far from perfect – very far from it the first time he'd leapt off his bed and attempted it, resulting in a sprained wrist until he muttered an "_Episkey_" that fixed it instantly. The Featherweight Charm, however, though it was a simple First year spell, had a similar effect in that the fall had no force behind it. The Flame-Freezing Charm was another simple charm he'd known since his first year – it had traditionally been on the curriculum because of the dangers of Muggle witch-hunting and stayed there since – that he'd never even thought of in his battle with the dragon.

His next encounter, however, would be different, thanks in part to Nicolas books that dated to a time when owning dragons wasn't unheard of. Some of them would certainly have been useful when he was preparing for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, he thought wryly, but then Hermione had really done a large part of that research anyway, his poor study habits markedly changed due to Nicolas' demanding apprenticeship.

_Dragons have some of the most acute senses found in the natural world_, read one book that had been particularly enlightening regarding avoiding dragons. _It is perhaps the most popular strategy to use a Conjunctivitis Curse to blind the beast; however, this does not take into account the additional senses at its disposal, disregarding the likelihood of enraging the beast, making it even more deadly. For this reason, encounters with dragons should always be attempted with Silencing Charms and Scent-Masking Charms; if the Conjunctivitis Curse is not to be used, then Disillusionment Charms are also encouraged. With three of its senses hampered against the opponent, most dragons will flee to avoid the unknown danger rather than face potentially deadly force. This is not necessarily true of nesting mothers, however, who will often fight fiercely…_

And so those techniques had also been put into his essay and had been practiced after Harry looked up the scent-masking charm. It was apparently quite common in earlier times, along with nose-numbing charms, which allowed wizards to live near to muggles; wizards had in those days bathed more frequently due to the _Aguamenti_ charm's ready supply of fresh water. Harry turned in the essay to Nicolas before setting off to complete his chores. The stables and greenhouse were taken care of within an hour, now that Elwood was doing some of the work, and thus it was still early when Harry once more found himself in the woods of Reserve.

Agnes the basilisk participated for her milking just as easily as she had the first time; she once more insisted that Harry hear a bit of the history of the power of Parselmouths from the past, which he listened to merely because the basilisk could very easily swallow him whole. He was a bit less leery of the snake biting him after his two harmless encounters, but still on edge at all times he was in the cave. He also thought this a perfect time to test his charms developed for the dragons.

"_Such measures are wise when dealing with dragons, brutes though they may be, not possessing the elegance of creatures such as I._" The basilisk said after it agreed to tell Harry whether or not the scent-masking charm was totally effective. It also bragged about how its senses were far more developed than a mere dragon – a bastardized snake. Harry cast the spell confidently and forcefully, then cast a Silencing Charm on himself the same way. He was happy to note that unless the basilisk opened its eyes, he should he totally invisible to it. The basilisk looked back and forth, flicking its tongue out as it did so. It moved back and forth as Harry evaded its movement, then gave what Harry could only assume past as a smile amongst snakes and nodded. Harry cancelled the charms and grinned broadly at his success.

"_Yes, your magicks were quite effective to hide yourself from me. I would most certainly have been forced to open my eyes if I wanted to detect you. That, however, would be easily countered by another spell from you. My former master had that ability himself, to disappear from sight. If I had any difficulty, then I assure you, those lizards you are worried about will not have the slightest chance at finding you._" The basilisk said somewhat superiorly. Harry got the oddest image of "Agnes" sporting blonde hair and a sneer, while the dragon had Hermione's bushy hair and was carrying a book. Apparently blood racism existed everywhere, he thought with a barely concealed grin.

"_Thank you for all of your help, mighty basilisk. I will see you tomorrow._" Harry said graciously as he departed.

"_Yes, and next time, you will advise me of your progress with your teacher, that I might compare it to the prowess that I know my former master had. I may be able to advise you in training, since I was constantly around in that mighty wizard's formative years. Farewell, little wizard._" Harry's eyes widened a bit at this proclamation from the basilisk – after all, did he really want the basilisk to know his abilities in such detail? '_Don't be foolish, Harry, if he wanted to kill you he'd just open his eyes a bit and you'd be a statue decorating his cave_,' Harry mentally berated himself. Besides, he didn't have enough meat on him to be a proper meal for the basilisk anyway. Somehow not comforted, he went back to the unicorn spring, as he thought of it, and this time was able to brush three adult unicorns in addition to the foals and yearlings. Apparently word spread amongst the herd fairly quickly that he meant them no harm. Still, some of the brilliant equines regarded him carefully, but he made sure to make no sudden movements and thus was able to obtain quite a few unicorn tail hairs.

It was during this collection that, once again, the unicorns ran off, though not quite as suddenly as they had when the dragon arrived the first time. Apparating immediately to the edge of the woods so that he was out of direct line-of-sight, Harry scanned the skies warily, but found nothing. A little surprised at missing a black dragon in the skies when he was used to spotting and grabbing a small golden ball from a further distance, he continued to sweep the sky ominously, and thus failed to notice the creature behind him until its breath hit his neck.

Harry jumped away in fright and shrieked, landing on his hands and scrambling up to face his attacker, only to see a thestral herd that had apparently approached. He attempted to calm his racing heart as he audibly laughed to himself, petting the thestral that had scared him to within an inch of his life once it approached him again – his own reaction had frightened it, apparently. Relieved that he wasn't about to have another encounter with a dragon, he reached out and pet the recovered thestral. Three more likewise came up to him and nuzzled him as the younger unicorns had done. Perhaps they, too, wanted to be brushed. Patting their coats a bit, Harry ran the brush through their untamed coats down to their long, flowing tails. Thestral hair was surprisingly sleek; even unicorn tail hair was not so fine as the thestrals, Harry thought. After perhaps fifteen minutes of brushing them, the thestrals left for the spring, leaving Harry with a surprisingly large batch of thestral tail hair to take back to Nicolas – Harry had never used it as an ingredient for a potion of any kind, but it might prove useful for something.

Finally, Harry moved on to collect the dragon dung. He Disillusioned himself – he may not have been totally invisible like Dumbledore when he cast the spell, but Harry thought himself fairly blended with his surroundings – and cast the silencing and scent-masking Charms he'd practiced with the basilisk. Hoping it was enough, he glanced upward at the hilly region above the forest, where the tallest mountain – the dragon cave visible on the side – loomed above him as he neared it. The forest faded a bit as he gained altitude, climbing the increasingly steep slopes. Every so often, he'd see a pile of dragon dung where it had fallen from the cave and Vanished it to the enormous barrel that Nicolas kept that was now running low in the greenhouse. Harry certainly wished that he could just duplicate the fertilizer as he could most other substances, but the replicated fertilizer lost so many of its nutrients when that was done that it was no better than manure from nonmagical creatures. The pile Vanished properly, no doubt added to the greenhouse supply, Harry marveled at how far his Vanishing skills, in particular, had come along in just the few short weeks. To think that during his O.W.L. exam, he'd had trouble Vanishing a little lizard into nothingness; true, a load of dragon dung was far less complicated to Vanish than a vertebrate, but having a specific destination made the spell much trickier.

Harry ascended ever higher as he grew emboldened by his success, until the sound of massive wings flapping alerted him to the dragon's proximity. He froze just as he was Vanishing a sizable pile of dung, praying that his Disillusionment spell was strong enough. He glanced up, and apparently his hope was misplaced as the dragon swooped down.

His concealments were enough to give the beast pause, however, as Harry hugged the cliff face and remained totally still, gripping his wand tightly in preparation to Apparate away to safety, despite not collecting quite enough dragon dung for Flamel. Glancing around, he saw only rocks on the mountain, nothing with which to distract the dragon. Vaguely, he heard Flamel's voice in his head from earlier, "It's a good thing you're a wizard…" and he chastised himself for his foolishness. He had passed his Transfiguration O.W.L., after all. He nailed a rock on the other side of the dragon with his transfiguration spell and watched as it morphed into a sheep, 'baa'ing wonderfully to draw the dragon's attention away from Harry. Both Harry and the dragon moved instantly; the dragon flung its long neck to the side and clamped down on the transfigured rock with its powerful jaws, tossing it up in the air before catching it in its mouth and completely devouring it. Harry, meanwhile, took advantage of the inattentive dragon and scrambled away as fast as he could. Fortunately he was silent, had no smell, and was mostly invisible, because the dragon seemed to have forgotten about his earlier presence and took to wing once more, retreating to the cave high up. Not before, Harry noticed, depositing another load of the fertilizer he sought on the next ledge above Harry.

A little Featherweight charm later – Harry wasn't particularly strong enough for continuous mountain climbing without it, of course – and Harry had gathered enough dung for the day to keep Flamel happy; all without coming to any harm, surprisingly. He Apparated back to the manor, where he happily reported his success back to Nicolas.

"Excellent work, Harry. I'm glad to hear of your success concerning the dragon dung collection – much improved strategy from yesterday, I think. Your essay provided you with some good thoughts on that, I believe, and so it was beneficial, even if I don't normally assign such things." Nicolas said with a smile.

"Alright, so what are we doing for the rest of the day?" Harry asked, seeing that no potions were brewing or any other work waiting obviously for him to set upon.

"Now that you have most of your afternoons free, excepting some potions that need to be brewed, I believe that its time for you to get started on some Occlumency, Harry. I think we should spend at least two hours each day on that instruction for you. In addition, we'll begin to embark upon some more complicated Arithmentic problems and their relation to curse-breaking, specifically – it is perhaps the most interesting and practical application available to us, so I believe you'll enjoy it." Harry and Nicolas began some simple exercises where Harry would sit and purposefully not think about anything, wiping thoughts from his mind.

"Now, Harry, when faced with an attack, you must simply force the thoughts from your mind in that same fashion; you may also bring other thoughts to your mind and manipulate what your attacker is seeing. Now look into my eyes and we shall begin."

Nicolas' eyes seemed to flash as Harry's met them, and Harry found his thoughts running wild through his head.

_Death Eaters rushed in the door, quickly incapacitating his friends while they slammed him into the hourglass, green lights rushing at him…Dumbledore in his office with Fudge and the Aurors attempting to arrest him before he escapes and leaves everyone stunned…The group who went to the ministry mounting the thestrals and heading off…Ron, Hermione, and Harry in their first year fighting the troll…Professor Quirrell with Harry in front of the mirror fighting to protect – NO!_ Harry threw the thought from his head viciously with all of his might, only to find Nicolas on the floor from the force of it. The old man smiled with Harry's success.

"Excellent work there, Harry, I'm glad you were able to keep some information from me. Though I hardly suppose it matters to me what's hidden a century in the future. In any case, try to recapture that feeling, and close your mind off to it. You know how to do it – your instruction seems to have capitalized on a practical method as well, for even that success is considerable. Normally it can take up to a decade for a well-organized mind to be sufficiently cleared, but you have made remarkable progress in only a single term. Let's try again, shall we?" Nicolas said amicably, apparently not remotely upset at Harry's violent Occlumency reaction.

The next three sessions went similarly; after that, he and Nicolas once more did the meditative mind clearing together for an hour. Harry was somewhat tired, of course – his second attempt threw Nicolas out even faster than the first, but by the third his discipline had wavered significantly and took him much longer to succeed – but overall pleased with how well the lesson went when compared to Snape's. Even if Nicolas had complemented Snape's technique as exactly the kind of inspiration that Harry seemed to need, Harry didn't have to like it. He was so caught up in how great the lesson went that he totally failed to notice that his scar didn't even twinge once throughout the process, unlike when he had been with Snape.

Afterward, Harry and Nicolas began the Arithmancy instruction. Despite Nicolas' claims, this was infinitely more complicated than he had let on – and infinitely more complicated than any Arithmantic problems Harry had thus far completed – and Harry spent the entire evening determining the possible counter-curse for the ward Nicolas had erected, a simple Repelling charm. At midnight, he'd finally gotten it down, and Nicolas smiled and released him to bed; Harry'd caught the old man himself nodding off during his attempts, which he thought rather unfair.

As he entered his bedroom, the prophecy orb sitting on his shelf once again drew his attention. '_After I can protect my mind with Occlumency, then I'll listen to it._' He thought tiredly.

Harry's schedule varied little throughout that first "term" of his Apprenticeship; technically it was still short because of the string of parties Nicolas was forced to attend that began in early December, but it was how Harry thought of it. However, several additional topics of study were introduced.

Collecting the by-products from the Reserve remained a constant test of Harry's skills, keeping his Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms spells well in hand. The potions ingredients he collected, of course, were put to good use almost each night as he sat up with Nicolas until late in the evening in his laboratory. The dragons, in particular, were where he constantly attempted new strategies. He had now created herds of sheep – his greatest achievement in transfiguration was 10 sheep at once from a pile of rocks that the two adult dragons left their cave to attack, levitated the dragons leaving them bewildered enough for him to Vanish their dung and Apparate away, mastered his concealing charms enough that the dragons couldn't see him from the sky and the baby dragon hadn't seen him when he was two feet in front of it, and on one particularly close call, shot the female mother dragon in the eye with a Conjunctivitis Charm and pelted her with enlarged branches of trees until she took wing; after this, Harry had made sure to Vanish the dung pile quickly and Apparate to safety before he required more burn salve. He had only four times in three months suffered any real damage from the dragons assaults, and those all in September during those first few weeks.

In addition to the basilisk venom, unicorn and thestrals tail hair, and dragon dung collecting, he'd also moved on to gathering graphorn and erumpent dung (both collected in separate barrels of the greenhouse), mooncalf dung (which required a special midnight trip with Nicolas and Perenelle both during each full moon to gather almost all of the droppings of the elusive mooncalves) that was a particularly rare and unique fertilizer, Acromantula silk – Harry hadn't even known that there were acromantulas in the forest he'd be wandering around in, and Harry had even managed to befriend the enormous Re'em that lived within the Reserve. He had yet to attempt to withdraw any blood – an enormously valuable potions ingredient that grants the user a temporary increase in strength that through an alchemical process could become mostly permanent if so desired – but Nicolas seemed to be unhurried for him to obtain this particular ingredient.

Harry had also had encounters with creatures that Nicolas didn't instruct him to obtain anything from. The bicorn herd – there were four now – had valuable horns, but taking them usually resulted in their death; without a horn, they were pathetic combatants without any aggression and were easily slain by normally weaker creatures. The Snidgets were possibly the most interesting creatures on the Reserve – long thought extinct; they existed only in pockets like at the Reserve. They were hunted for Quidditch games and used as Snitches in early history for their maneuverability and speed. Also spotted were some Diricawl, which usually popped away as soon as he came near them. Harry also had befriended a few of the wood nymphs that lived in the forest. Unlike the bowtruckles, which were also tree guardians, the wood nymphs were lovely creatures with enchanting voices that Harry would sometimes listen to for great lengths of time if he'd brought some particularly challenging homework or needed to meditate for his Occlumency exercises.

His Occlumency had come along remarkably well in that first term; he was able to force Nicolas out of his mind before he could view any memory. Harry was, however, still painfully obvious when forcing Nicolas from his head; there was absolutely no capability for redirection or subtlety with his method, just a brute-force, knee-jerk reaction that kicked Nicolas out instantly. Nicolas was totally perplexed by this, having never taught a student at once so adept and so miserable at the Art. Harry was also likewise terrible at Legilimency, displaying only a few pathetic attempts with his wand to even concern Nicolas; his eyes had never even been able to make an attempt on Nicolas' mind.

The Reserve also brought some additional opportunities for ward-crafting experience for Harry. Usually the process was that he made a careful study of the existing spells around an area, wrote a lengthy dissertation discussing the finer points of rune choice and placement – placement of runes was a new study for Harry, and involved some Arithmancy to predict optimum distance between runes, thus working out shapes like a puzzle – which Nicolas would critique and correct. After Nicolas thought he understood them well enough, they might work together to bring down the existing scheme and leaving Harry to re-erect it after hours – sometimes days, in the case of the erumpent pen climate control rune scheme – of diligent carving. This had introduced him too to the additional runic schemes used by Nicolas in his advanced work. Futhark was wonderful for beginners to learn Runes, Nicolas had said, but variety led to more focused work that was thus more powerful. Harry had memorized the Futhark runes now, and even the Egyptian ones after his work on the pyramid with the sphinx enclosure, but had also been introduced to and given thick translation books on Celtic, Sumerian, and Mayan runes. Nicolas was confident that Harry's diligent work on the runes would pay off wonderfully, but they tended to blur together to Harry after long nights of ward scheme translations; he had trouble telling Sumerian and Mayan runes apart when his eyes were crossed.

Harry's Arithmancy lessons had gone quite slowly in Harry's mind, since they only covered three or four major topics in depth, but Nicolas assured him that his progress was fine; apparently each of the processes included nearly all of the O.W.L. level calculations, so he had caught on quickly. The basics still sometimes eluded him, embarrassingly, and he'd have to refer to the beginning chapters of a basic Arithmancy book as often as he would Nicolas' notes on optimal distance calculations for power rune placement when erecting weather-altering wards. Most interestingly, Nicolas had also begun to teach Harry one of Nicolas' specialties within Arithmancy – blood ward calculations. Unfortunately it was too complex for them to hit upon more than the basics before Nicolas' party season emerged upon them and he was forced into the public spotlight, but Harry looked forward to continuing his studies, particularly since blood wards at the Dursleys had protected him since he was small.

Elwood had also come along well in the few months that he lived with the Flamels. While he was certainly not pushed as hard as Harry – one might also say that he didn't push himself as hard – he had now come to take over many of the chores Harry was once responsible for in the stables, even learning the rather complex Charm to use on the brushes for the horses and other equines. Harry still usually brushed a dozen or so at once, but left the others for Elwood to do individually.

However wonderful Harry considered his apprenticeship, and indeed he was greatly enjoying his time with the legendary Alchemist, to be sure, Harry did still feel quite lonely here in the past. He had buried himself effectively in work, of course, and that allowed him less time to dwell on the likely permanent loss of his friends, but it still crossed his mind occasionally. When he taught Elwood to fly on a broomstick, for example, and all about Quidditch, Harry tried to instill Ron's fervor into the speech, and even related some of the more impressive stories of Ron's latest season catches. Elwood was growing quickly, so while he had a nice Seeker build now, Harry decided to start him on Chasing so that he'd grow into it. When Harry's studies got to be overwhelming and he didn't think he could handle it, he tearfully thought of Hermione going mad in their third year as she took every class available with the aid of a Time-Turner. Even Muggle Studies as a Muggle-born, he thought with a grin. Thinking of Hermione's Muggle Studies made him think of Flamel's own preoccupation with Muggles, which rivaled Dumbledore's. Usually once a week, Harry and Flamel would head into the nearest muggle town, and Harry would show Flamel some new Muggle invention like the recent telephone, which certain establishments were beginning to get as the latest fad. Some Muggles in the bars they'd occasionally visit would swear that they would never own one of the 'blasted contraptions', and that they were useless. Harry also introduced Flamel to the Muggle boat, and they took a ride in the Channel on a rented boat, which Flamel was ecstatic about afterwards, talking to Perenelle for over three hours about the 'Water machine'.

"And the sails on it, Perenelle – it was like magic for the Muggles!" He said somewhat excitedly when they got back. The trips were always fun for Harry, who didn't understand – even back when Mr. Weasley did it – why wizards were so fascinated by the simplest Muggle things. Of course, Harry himself was always fascinated by simple magic things, so he supposed it was a fair trade. The Flamels, however, were far more versed in Muggle culture than Mr. Weasley had been, even if their "Muggle disguises" had, before Harry corrected Nicolas, included a knight's breastplate. Nicolas couldn't imagine that the Muggles had moved on fashion-wise. "It's preposterous, Harry, this is the height of Muggle fashion! It'd be like wizards no longer wearing robes!" He objected loudly. Perenelle's formal gown was actually less out of place in Victorian England than Harry would have believed, however, so she didn't require much of a wardrobe modification. Elwood and Harry, however, had great fun picking out a bundle of Muggle clothes at a shop in Exeter with the help of a shopkeeper. Their knickers and white shirts, complete with suspenders, made Harry think of how ridiculous he'd look in his own time.

The shopkeeper also insisted that Harry, being older, obtain a more formal three piece suit complete with bow-tie. Nicolas too was fitted, and Perenelle a new dress that was the fashion from Paris – it had a more natural fit for the hips than her older dresses, but retained the tight bodice. Nicolas said that these formal Muggle "costumes" were necessary because the three of them would be attending Queen Victoria's Ball this year, and needed proper outfits. Elwood would not be attending this Ball, instead staying at the Potters for that evening, Nicolas informed Harry with a grin – they had a son his age that Harry wondered if he was related to. Elwood would be going to all of the wizarding functions with the Flamels, however, much to his disappointment. Nicolas' presence was required at several functions in France – Harry was looking forward to that somewhat, as he'd never been to France – and a few prominent gatherings in London this season. To top it off, Nicolas promised a trip to a gathering at Durmstrang after Christmas. Harry was particularly eager for this, as he well remembered their students from the Tri-Wizard Tournament – particularly Viktor Krum – and how they'd described its harsh climate and beautiful grounds.


	3. The Burdens of High Society

_**Harry Potter and the Alchemist's Apprentice**_

Chapter Three: The Burdens of High Society

"Yes, I think my instruction has been most excellent," Harry responded politely in French to the elegant French witch in front of him. He hadn't known French last week. With the help of a frightfully potent Wit-Sharpening Potion that focused on a part of the brain responsible for learning language – Nicolas said that it recreated a "critical period of language learning" – however, he was already forming basic sentences and learning it merely from exposure. The first two days, Flamel had taught him a few basics, and then they'd set off for their first party, where Harry mostly kept silent and listened, absorbing syntax and vocabulary like a sponge. The potion would only last a few weeks, but Flamel assured him that he would be mostly fluent by that time.

"Well, with dear Nicolas, I'm sure he's up to his usual standards. Have you met my granddaughter Claire? She is in her final year at Beauxbatons, and will pursue a Charms Apprenticeship with one of Paris' finest Masters. Claire, my dear, come here, I've someone for you to meet!" Harry accepted a drink from the woman he was talking with as her granddaughter came over. This was the greatest part of French parties, Harry had decided long ago – French girls.

Each one more beautiful than the last, and each one wanting to spend time with him, Nicolas' apprentice, who was sure to soon be famous. Harry didn't care about the fame, but had gotten over the shyness he always had at Hogwarts and found constant flirting with these girls wonderful. Claire seemed to be a nice enough girl, and younger than most he'd been introduced to, if she was still a student. After a few more sips of his drink, things were much clearer, though. Claire was unnervingly alluring, for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. It was captivating, really. With every moment, he could feel himself being drawn to her.

"Hello, Harry," Harry loved the way his name sounded on a French tongue – one of the many wonderful aspects of French tongues, to be sure, "It is so nice to meet you. I'd heard stories that Flamel had taken his youngest apprentice ever, but I did not expect you to be so handsome as well." Claire was eyeing him up like a piece of meat, and Harry was holding a sign that said, "Buy me."

"Well, you know Flamel and his potions – they can make any old boy look like this," Claire and her grandmother – just how young did they have kids here in France, anyway? – both laughed pleasantly at his joke as he puffed out his chest slightly in a mocking pose. French witches often reminded him of Fleur, and lately he was of half a mind to find his own part-Veela French witch at these parties. They were mostly for purebloods, however, and when he'd asked Nicolas, he seemed rather doubtful that there would be any present.

"Harry, why don't you and I find someplace quieter where we can talk without all these people around? I hear that the balcony is beautiful at night…" Harry had learned at his second party that when a French witch wants to find someplace quieter with you, it is a good thing. Perhaps wonderful thing is a better description. He just grinned and took Claire's hand gently in his own as they made their way outside.

"I noticed that you got back from that party fairly late last night, Harry. Technically it was early this morning." Nicolas said the next morning privately after breakfast, still speaking French; he believed that a total immersion was most conductive to learning a new language. Unfortunately, he said it during a short Occlumency check-up lesson, and Harry had a feeling which memories would be looked for.

"_Legilimens!_" Nicolas attacked Harry as harshly as he ever had before, while Harry struggled to keep him at bay. A memory would almost surface as Harry ruthlessly batted it aside over and over again, until finally Harry's mind, weakened by the ten minute constant assault, was unable to force aside the picture of Claire lying in a bedroom of the French manor her parents owned; Harry was beside her in this memory, though thankfully both were covered by the sheet of her bed, his arm around her shoulders. Harry forced the old alchemist rather forcefully out of his head, ending the attack.

"And now we have a reason why," Nicolas said with a smirk. Harry was quite embarrassed at his night's escapades on display, but managed only to turn slightly red and bite his lower lip slightly.

"Of course, Harry, you might be interested to know that Madam de Montmorency – Claire's, was it? Grandmother Laverne – was awarded a prestigious Charms award for something she developed not long ago, the Contraceptive Charm. This from the witch who was notably famous for inventing Love Potions, which I expect you were under the effects of last night. Anyway, tricky little thing that charm, I believe, but luckily something I overheard Claire mentioning it to her friends just before your disappearing act. It's actually making waves throughout the French social circles – young witches are being accused of acting more…promiscuous than their elders believe prudent. Regardless, at least you don't have that to worry about. Speaking of, if you insist on…what is that lovely English phrase…_tomming_ out at these parties," Nicolas had a great deal of mirth in his eyes as he said this, "you might consider learning the charm yourself." Nicolas' smile was contagious, and once Harry realized that the old sorcerer wasn't upset at him for acting out on his love potion-induced hormones – after all, he wasn't a parental figure to Harry the way he was to Elwood – Harry too smiled somewhat ruefully at the insinuations. Nicolas Summoned an issue of _Challenges in Charming_ and it opened to the proper page for Harry to learn the charm, which he quickly went over so that he wouldn't have to suffer Nicolas' smirk.

"Excellent, Harry. Don't forget that ball in Avignon tonight. Oh, and spend the afternoon learning about Portkeys – more reliable for long distance. It wasn't out of Apparation distance to Reims last night, but tonight it's either two Apparations or a single Portkey, and I think you should learn anyway. Your dress robes will be cleaned and pressed, your house elf said." Nicolas retreated to his office – he'd been writing a lot of correspondence lately, though Harry wasn't certain why – as Harry settled down to digest the large tome on Portkey creation that Nicolas gave him. Apparently it was a good deal more theoretically intensive than Apparation, likely why it was so tightly moderated by the Ministry.

However, he did find that the process of Portkey travel was somewhat similar to Vanishing in a specialized way, which struck his newly discovered Alchemical inquisitive nature. He was quite proficient at Vanishing charms, of course, but had never considered Vanishing himself instead of Apparating.

The rest of the balls and galas, which occurred quite nearly every night, went in a similar fashion, except for Harry being slipped mild love potions. Of course, that wasn't exactly uncommon either, but Harry soon learned how to recognize their influence and thus resist them – he thought them like almost like a milder version of the euphoria of the Imperius Curse. By the twentieth of December, Harry was fully fluent in French – including some rather interesting expressions he'd learned from some witches on his late nights – and had also seemed to acquire a rather roguish charm and confidence that he never thought he'd obtain.

His stories consistently drew a crowd – both the stories of his escapades at Hogwarts, which most assumed exaggerated, and his tales of combating dragons, which everyone assumed totally fabricated – and he was one of the biggest draws to prominent wizards besides Nicolas and Perenelle themselves. When the three were together, the parties frequently centered around their tales and opinions; Harry didn't at first contribute to the discussions of magical theory, but soon found that his words were studied almost as closely as Nicolas'. Apparently sometimes even more so, because his words were more comprehensible to the common wizard and witch; he was quite surprised to find his commentary on Vanishing Charms published in _Transfiguration Today_ verbatim the day after he'd delivered a speech to a curious and frisky French witch. The article wasn't the best consequence of the speech, but it ranked a nice second.

The next day was important, however, because it was the Queen's ball. Harry was still correcting Nicolas, as well as Perenelle now, on muggle customs, and was quite concerned about how things would work out. Nicolas assured them that the Obliviators would be on hand as always, and that Queen Victoria actually enjoyed it when several of her prominent statesmen accidentally saw magic and lost their memory. She was suspected to have done it intentionally to a man named Gladstone, who Harry vaguely recognized from primary school history classes.

With several hours to spare, Harry was exasperatedly attempting to fix the "muggle costumes" of the Flamels. Elwood he'd practically had to dress himself for his night at the Potters, so excited was he about his sleepover, but the Flamels were nearly as ridiculous. Perenelle's hair was initially charmed in an exquisitely elaborate fashion that would have been totally physically impossible for a muggle to reproduce, so Harry told her to change that. Nicolas swore that his tie that flashed rainbow colors had been bought at a muggle store, but Harry veto-ed that idea as well. Last of all, Harry had to force them to change their jewelry – Perenelle's floating diamond necklace with no chain and Nicolas' planetary pocket watch would have drawn far too much attention, so they were replaced with similar muggle counterparts.

Finally, and with little enough time, Nicolas allowed Harry to create the Portkey that took all of them along with the Peugeot to Berkshire just a mile away from Windsor Castle, the principal residence of Queen Victoria and the location of her ball. Harry acted as driver until the valet took their car to the park – a surprising number of the people drove cars, but Harry supposed that many of the most prominent British people were here and would want the latest fad, but many still drove elaborate carriages.

Nicolas, likely ignoring every protocol in existence, immediately strode right up to Victoria and loudly exclaimed, "Victoria, dear! How lovely to see you again," while hugging her. Harry regarded the legendary monarch closely for a minute – she was old, looking nearly similar to Perenelle, but a smile lit her face when she saw Nicolas enter; apparently he was far more entertaining than her current company.

"Nicolas, dear, it's been far too long! And Perenelle, you look lovelier each year – though I'm rather disappointed in your hair style this year, they're usually the talk of the party!" Perenelle looked pointedly at Harry in response, who smiled wryly.

"Of course, Vicky. We actually have my new apprentice to thank for that," he added almost silently, "Nutter for muggle culture, you know," before resuming his loud voice, "Harry, might I introduce Her Royal Highness Queen Victoria." The Queen accepted the kiss on the back of her hand with mirth as Harry said, "_Enchanté, madam_," with all of the charm he could muster.

"Ha! I've been taking him to all of these French parties for too long, I think, so he picked some up. A bit of Russian and…was it Finnish? Too." Nicolas explained to Victoria's laughter. He leaned in for another whisper saying, "He's starting to learn Gobbledegook, too, I figured it'd be good for him!"

"But of course he'd be brilliant, for him to be so young. I believe your last apprentice might have been my age, and that was from when I was merely a young girl! Harry, it was a pleasure to meet you, you simply must tell me all of what Nicolas has been teaching you, I do so enjoy those tales." Victoria said in dismissal.

Unlike at the wizard balls, Harry was slightly uncomfortable around the muggles, as he wasn't sure exactly what he should talk about. This was an interesting feeling for him, because he'd always used to feel this way around wizards before his little time-travel mishap. He noticed that many of them seemed to discuss their cars, which Harry knew Dudley always talked about in the future as well, so he input a bit of discussion about Flamel's Peugeot. The new telephones, the latest trend amongst the rich, it seemed, were also talked about – Harry predicted confidently that every household would eventually have one, which was scoffed at by some guests.

Harry tried to stick close to Nicolas and Perenelle, but it seemed that Nicolas, especially, was not looked upon favorably by most of the guests. Particularly the aforementioned William Gladstone, who Nicolas seemed to enjoy antagonizing.

"Bill!" Nicolas had called out when they first saw each other at the party. The crowd between them seemed to magically part – it very well may have been Nicolas, actually – and Nicolas locked "Bill" in another warm embrace that wasn't returned so much as suffered through. A scowl on his face, which didn't seem to Harry to look as though it was used to a smile, Gladstone rather tersely replied, "Nicolas."

"Goodness, Bill, I haven't seen you in years! That might have been because last time I saw you, you swore you wouldn't attend another gala that I did. Anyway, I told Vicky not to tell you, so that you'd come and we could be reunited. Gosh Bill, how've you been?" Bill, who had the expression on his face that indicated something foul was under his nose – Harry recognized it as a typical Malfoy expression, and wondered if they might be related distantly – scowled even more deeply.

"Well, Nicolas, I still hold you responsible for that last _incident_, if you do recall." It seemed that Bill didn't want whatever incident occurred to be brought to light in front of the many observers who'd stopped their own conversations and listened.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I do rightly remember, Bill, my memory being what it is these days – old age, you know, and memory's the second thing to go –" There were several near-snorts at this comment from Nicolas, but he ignored them and continued. "Ooh! Do you mean how that poor serving boy put that turkey right on your head after he tripped?" Many who apparently remembered the incident laughed out loud at this point, but Nicolas was just sadly shaking his head with a seemingly mournful expression on his face that Harry just knew was false. "Yes, I do think I recall that _unfortunate_ accident. The turkey never would have fit over your head if it hadn't been so well lubricated from the cranberry sauce. I did apologize for hitting my plate like that, sending it on your head. Of course, the fact that the server was standing behind me in no way implicates me as at fault for that, though. Ooh, canapés!" Nicolas exclaimed before flagging down a server carrying the hors d'oeuvres. Many of the guests at this point were laughing at his story, while Gladstone merely grew more red-faced at the attention. His temper contained, he stormed off away from a blissfully smiling Nicolas.

"You don't get along with him, I take it?" Harry inquired quietly; Nicolas chuckled slightly in response. "Oh, he's actually a good fellow – lots of good political ideas, actually. He is quite fun to play a bit with, though. Using magic on muggles is fun because it takes a bit of finesse so you don't get caught." Harry and Nicolas demonstrated some amusing and 'undetectable' pranks for each other the rest of the evening, most amusingly convincing Gladstone that he was now allergic to the Queen, much to the Queen's amusement – she immediately suspected Nicolas with a raised eyebrow, and was pleased to find Harry with his wand up his sleeve equally guilty.

"Some amusing pranks, Apprentice." Harry turned around from his place in a rather isolated corner of the ballroom – the voice was far too young to belong to the Queen, but who else knew about magic? It turned out to be a well-dressed woman of some bearing, somewhat older than Harry himself, who Harry had noticed around the members of the Royal Family.

"Good evening, milady, my name is Harry, might I be graced with your own?" The French women had done nothing if not taught him some manners along with eloquence. The lady looked somewhat surprised at his charm, but seemed to grow slightly more interested – it was a familiar expression for Harry, now.

"Princess Victoria, Apprentice Harry – is that the usual form of address for you?" Harry chuckled slightly as he kissed the back of her hand.

"Oh, Apprentice Harry is far too pretentious, Your Highness, Harry is just fine." Harry said with a grin. She took the barb well and smiled herself, "Alright then Your Highness Harry, you may call me Victoria."

"A sharp wit to match that of the Queen herself. A deadly combination with your looks, milady." Harry bantered.

"Oh yes, my grandmother and I do seem to share our wit and sense of humor." The woman leaned forward slightly and quietly said, "So tell me about your magic, Harry – so few know about magic, so I am always ever so eager to hear stories of it." Harry noticed that this Princess, who looked to be in her late twenties or so, far older than any of the girls Harry had met at previous parties, was coming on rather strongly towards him. Nicolas had expressly forbidden consorting with members of the Royal Family – of course, he probably knew about this Victoria's tendencies – so Harry decided to try to back off and return to a more public area of the party.

"Well, I don't think our Ministry would approve if we discussed magic so close to muggles who might overhear, Victoria. Perhaps another time." He smiled in what he thought was a dismissal and moved to turn back to the party.

"Oh, you are so right, Harry. We shall take a walk in the private gardens while you tell me all of your stories. A splendid idea!" She had a sly grin on her face as she grabbed his arm.

'_Oh boy, this is trouble_,' Harry thought as he looked around frantically, trying to grab Nicolas' attention. Of course, the old man could never be found when Harry needed him. '_Is it rude to Apparate away from a Princess?_'

Victoria led him through numerous corridors – Harry was quickly lost in the palatial castle – and then stopped in one that seemed to Harry particularly dark.

"Show me some _magic_, Harry!" She said in a seductive whisper that slightly frightened Harry. He had been with girls before – certainly in more compromising positions than this, especially with the aid of their love potions, but this one was coming on strong! Harry lit up the hallway with a quick "_lumos!_" and hoped it would satisfy her. It did not, but she did smirk with success.

"So, Harry, have you had any adventures?" She said even more seductively as they made it to the gardens and emerged upon the beautiful walkway. She was stroking his arm lightly as Harry attempted to tell her the same stories he'd always told, but she interrupted so much, asking for descriptions of anything and everything magical, that he didn't get very far before Victoria jumped on him, both of them ending up on a carved marble bench, Victoria forcefully kissing him. Before he could even comprehend what was going on, she had his shirt un-tucked from his trousers and was running her hands all over him. Lust clearly evident in her somewhat crazed look, Harry was just about to show her a Banishing spell when he heard a voice cry, "Over there, I think I see them!" Which prompted an, "Oh, bugger!" from him. Somehow, he knew Nicolas was responsible.

"George! What are you doing here?" Harry searched his mind for anyone important named George – future King George? '_Double bugger…_'

"Looking out for my sister's virtue! Where are you, Toria?" Harry examined his own state fearfully – this would not look good, before casting a quick Disillusionment Charm on himself and smiling in relief; Victoria got an even hungrier expression on her face at the display of more magic.

"I just came out here to get some fresh air, George! Honestly," Victoria shouted moodily back at him.

"Where is the apprentice of that crazy old man Grandmother knew? Is he here? I know he left the ballroom with you!" George seemed to be looking around frantically. Apparently, Harry wasn't the first she'd "left the ballroom with," if George's practiced tone was any indication. "Toria" looked quite agitated and noticeably flustered, while her brother continued his search with some surprise at not having found anyone.

'_I would about give the world to be able to nonverbally cast a Silencing charm right now…Merlin I need to work harder on that!_' Every attempt of Nicolas' to teach Harry nonverbal spells besides a pathetic glow rather like a firefly from a _lumos_ spell was met with failure. For some reason, Harry was totally incompetent at it despite his attempts; his Apparation was too loud for him to get back to the ballroom unnoticed.

Soon enough, however, George left, leaving Victoria to whisper, "Harry, where are you?" Only to be met with a sharp 'crack!' of Apparation as he reappeared in the deserted hallway near the ballroom. He removed the Disillusionment charm from himself after me ensured some privacy and returned to the ballroom, pulling Nicolas aside from his canapés.

"Did you do that on purpose?" He whispered harshly. Nicolas gave a knowing smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. Though George did ask where his sister had gotten off to, and I was, of course, obliged to mention your departure." Nicolas said as he nonchalantly devoured another hors d'oeuvre. Harry sighed, able to admit that his Master had played him well.

"She's bloody crazy! She's like, obsessed with magic or something!" He said, somewhat amused. Nicolas nodded, obviously still humored by the situation.

"Yes, it has long been Victoria's dream to have a magical child. Unfortunately, none of the wizards she's successfully seduced have been able to father it. I believe you are the youngest…magic wand…that she's attempted to get her hands on. Congratulations!" Harry had to chuckle at Nicolas' candor.

"Well, Harry, do make your excuses – Perenelle and I really must get to bed; age does that to us, after all. Besides, we want what's left of your virtue to come home with us, and I don't know how much longer magic can keep an amorous princess at bay." Nicolas said as he went off to find Perenelle. Harry sighed, thankful that this party was over; it was nice to be something other than the center of attention, as he always seemed to end up being in the magical world, but this was by far the most trying of any of the parties he'd yet attended. It seemed that he was indelibly a part of the magical world now, instead of an occasional visitor as he'd often previously felt in his Hogwarts years. Harry said farewell to the Queen and Lord Gladstone and retrieved the Peugeot from the valet as the Flamels climbed in. They once more drove a fair distance out from Windsor Castle before Harry tapped his wand on the steering wheel and said, "_Portus_," as they disappeared into the night.

Christmas was a boisterous affair at the Flamel household, with a modest amount of gift-exchanging for everyone present and an absurd amount from owls. Nicolas and Perenelle had everything, of course, but that didn't stop a legion of owls from delivering books both new and old (though most a good deal younger than Flamel himself), rare potions ingredients, wands to test, cauldrons to endorse, and other nonsense for which Nicolas had little need. He put those with a few exceptions – the majority for Harry's use – in a pile to donate to St. Mungo's or another equally worthy cause. Some of those who knew Nicolas slightly better sent gifts that were better appreciated by him, including a wild Snidget to join the flock at the Reserve, some exotic Brazilian magical plants for Perenelle's greenhouse, and a dragon egg; this last one Nicolas handed right to Harry, who groaned audibly when he saw his new responsibility and decided to brush up on his Flame-Freezing charms.

The most interesting gifts, however, came from those who knew Nicolas best – his former apprentices. It seemed to be a bit of a contest between the three currently living Alchemists who could give the old man the strangest gift. Harry learned a bit about each of them as Nicolas unwrapped the presents.

"Ah, a gift from Maude Botchkins! She was my apprentice nearly ninety years ago, now. Wonderful girl, she was quite vivacious if I do recall; Hogwarts Head Girl in her day and all that. She turned down the Headmistress position quite a few times over the years now – I only hope to instill such wisdom in all of my students. Let's see what we have here…" Maude had given Nicolas a new wizard hat which he seemed to greatly enjoy; it was polka dotted, and each dot was a different color that changed independent of the others; the background also changed from violent shades of lime green to electric orange and every other putrid color imaginable. Nicolas grinned like a child and immediately put it on, to the amusement of Elwood.

"Ah, the next apprentice is a very fine gentlemen, he was the host of that party in Orleans, Harry, Renaud Girard. He was here only sixty years ago, himself. His were the charms that yours replaced on the stables, I believe. A very fine enchanter – his Mastery thesis focused on how different types of materials hold enchantments differently. Quite fascinating, actually, the difference between wool cloaks and silk cloaks. And of course, Renaud's taste in wine, as a Frenchman, was quite a bit more discerning than your own." Nicolas happily removed the gift, an enchanted toilet seat that lit up Nicolas' face when he saw it, and set it aside after examining it a bit. Harry would have to look at the enchantments on it later, before it saw use. Finally, they came to the last gift from Nicolas' former apprentices – this one was wrapped in much darker paper than the others, and was considerably larger. A letter was attached to this one also, which Nicolas opened – he appeared rather un-amused throughout the skimming of its contents.

"And of course, the apprentice before Renaud. Lord Vaclar. He never did possess the sense of humor that I insisted on in my other apprentices. It has been eighty years since his presence graced this house as an apprentice. Of course, he insists on a practical gift, likely a priceless artifact of some kind, wasted on me." Nicolas opened the wrapping and sure enough, he was correct. Inside was a gorgeous and elaborate Pensieve. It was solid marble with gold ornamentation on the side depicting men in togas around a forum of some kind. A second letter was inside, and Nicolas read this one aloud.

"_Nicolas,_

_This Pensieve came into my belonging not too long ago, and I was able to trace its history back to the time of the ancient Roman sorcerers who founded modern magical practices. No doubt it is one of the most ancient still in existence, and I sincerely hope that such an artifact is a suitable gift for my Master. I look forward to our meeting at this year's ball at Durmstrang – it has been far too long._

_Lord Vaclar_

_P.S. I received your socks. You were right, the warming charms come in handy in this bitterly chilly weather._ Ah yes…you'll learn, Harry, that to an old man, there is no finer gift than a good pair of socks. Enchanted socks can be even nicer in a place like Durmstrang. I don't know if Vaclar appreciated them very well, though…shame." At least Harry knew where Dumbledore got that particular answer to his question back in his first year. Nicolas looked appraisingly at the Pensieve, then back at Harry. "Well, Harry, I certainly have no use for this third Pensieve – the second I could at least give to Perenelle – so this one's yours. No, no, I insist. Vaclar would have done so much better to have given me waterproof socks for this British weather, they really might have been handy."

At Nicolas' insistence, Harry sorted through all of the other gifts he had no intention of keeping and set aside a few things that looked interesting. He kept two of the spare wands, neither of which suited him quite as well as his holly and phoenix tail feather – they had cores of a banshee hair and a unicorn tail hair, respectively; Ollivander had sent a note indicating that the unicorn tail hair had come from the Reserve, and Harry got a sense of which unicorn it was that this hair belonged to when he waved it around – one of the young golden foals who'd always been the most appreciative of his brushings and nuzzled him cutely whenever he was around. Harry also kept three cauldrons for himself, which he would use once he was at Hogwarts to brew anything he might need outside of his Potions class, and most of the "old" books, which Flamel had received copies of when originally published, along with several of the newly published books that looked interesting. One in particular looked as though it might be useful when he began a formal study of human transfiguration in his N.E.W.T. classes at Hogwarts – though he firmly intended to begin studying on his own this potentially very useful branch of transfiguration.

Nicolas and Perenelle's gifts for Harry and Elwood were also quite interesting. Elwood received his very own sets of gobstones, Exploding Snap, and a mound of Chocolate Frogs to start a collection of Famous Wizard cards. Harry briefly wondered just how envious Ron would be if Harry returned to the future with fists full of rare cards, which evoked some fairly melancholy emotions within him. It would have been a month into term for his friends, now, and he found himself wondering how they had fared without him. Had all of them survived the Ministry? The Death Eaters might have been so pleased with his death that they allowed his friends to suffer through their mourning instead of facing death themselves – Harry hoped that was the case.

Shaken from his introspective by Flamel handing him a very large package, Harry smiled and opened it to reveal a Broomstick Kit. Unlike the one that Hermione had gotten him for his thirteenth birthday, however, this one was much more complete – it contained many more tools and polishes, as well as stains and a much thicker book.

"I remembered a few of your stories of Quidditch, Harry. As I'm sure you know, most people still craft and enchant their own brooms if they want them – manufactured brooms exist mostly for professional players. As an apprentice Alchemist, however, I expect that any broom you make will be far superior to even an Oakshaft 79." Nicolas said, covering up the fact that it must have worked differently in the future. Now this was a project that Harry could really sink his teeth into, he decided as he tried to remember everything that had ever excited Ron about his Firebolt. He'd need an ash handle and birch twigs, to start…the famous Horton-Keitch Braking Charm wasn't invented yet, unfortunately, and that meant that Harry would have to do some research to rival that unbreakable charm, so he mentally decided to go over his Arithmancy books in some greater detail over the next week. Of course, a solid Cushioning Charm was a most for comfort, as well as a charm for maneuvering, accelerating, top speed – so crucial in his role as a Seeker, of course. He was struggling to remember the charm to cure reluctant reversers when Nicolas indicated the remaining gifts. Harry somewhat sheepishly put away his obviously favorite gift and opened the others.

They seemed to be some sort of puzzle for Harry to figure out, and he truthfully had no idea what they meant. He first opened the thick robes, warm hat, sturdy boots, and gloves, all personally charmed by Nicolas for warmth and comfort, which he expected were for the upcoming visit to Durmstrang. He well remembered the contingent of Durmstrang students from the Tri-Wizard Tournament wearing similar parkas. The next few packages were more troubling, however, as Nicolas merely got an excited gleam in his eye as Harry unwrapped each gift.

First came a pair of rather common-looking, simple peasants clothing meant for a child, or maybe a house-elf. Was Nicolas telling him to free his elf? Next came a slightly sturdier shirt of the same size – Harry thought that it might have been dragon hide, which would mean that it was expensive gift if it didn't fit. Looking questioningly at Nicolas, who gave nothing away, he continued and opened a package containing a wickedly sharp dagger like he'd seen on some of Dudley's old shows on the telly. Despite itself being beautiful if simple, it was housed in a rather plain black dragon hide sheath. The mysteries, however, continued when Harry unwrapped what appeared to be a fishing net in an odd design. Harry could make nothing of that one, so he moved on to the final gift, a spear crafted of no materials Harry could identify.

"Uh…Master? These seem to be…odd gifts." Harry said lightly. Elwood thought each gift more hilarious than the last, and was currently trying to put on the small pair of pants, which were too small even for him.

"Indeed they are, Harry." Nicolas said unhelpfully with a smile, "But I think you'll find them useful." Harry had early on discovered that if Nicolas refused to answer a question, Harry would learn the answer later, so he dropped it, graciously thanked the Flamels for their gifts, and watched them open them. He had also helped Elwood with his gifts, so he was anxiously awaiting the opening.

For Perenelle, he had enchanted a pair of dragon-hide gloves – he'd eventually stopped attempting to charm the dragon hide itself and instead charm the liners – to wick away and eliminate all sweat, enhanced them with a comfort charm, and made it so that the liners would constantly repair the torn dragon hide. That last task in and of itself was exceedingly difficult, since dragon hide was so resistant even to simple repair charms. Elwood had worked with Harry to enchant a pad for her knees with a simple Cushioning charm that he'd cast himself after weeks of practice with Harry carving the runes; it was still somewhat weak, but serviceable nonetheless, and Perenelle appreciated the hard work.

Nicolas enjoyed his gift from Harry even more, though – after seeing the other apprentices gifts, he was even more satisfied in its appropriateness. Harry had heavily enchanted a mirror not unlike a standard wizard's mirror, only much more crass and insulting about the appearance of the reflection. He'd gotten the idea from when the Marauder's Map insulted Snape two years before, and knew that Nicolas would enjoy it. The alchemist hooted quite jovially when the mirror proclaimed him, "A rather scruffy bum, enjoying the hospitality of the Flamels." Elwood had gotten Nicolas a sampling of the latest candies which the boy also enjoyed, coincidentally.

In all, it was a wonderful Christmas for Harry, who was looking forward to the upcoming stay at Durmstrang. Unlike the other parties, this gathering was apparently for scholars, not high society. Famous wizards, though principally Alchemists, from around the world would all meet there, hosted by Nicolas' former apprentice Vaclar. It would be three days of meetings, seminars, and what Nicolas described as, "entirely too lofty discussion." Nicolas loudly complained that everyone present would be stuffy and clamoring for his attention when he didn't need it, but he once admitted to Harry that he was looking forward to seeing a handful of his colleagues, mostly former apprentices, once more. It had been the first gathering he'd attended in fifty years, Harry learned, because he mostly only attended them for his apprentices' benefit. Elwood was excited because Nicolas promised to let him play with the Durmstrang students who had stayed over the holidays, which reminded Harry of all of the times he had stayed at Hogwarts, and the wondrous memories he'd made at that old castle. He was certain that Durmstrang would be equally magical during the winter; the snow certainly always seemed to enhance Hogwarts' image, when it was first seen.

Two days later, it was early in the evening when Nicolas finally made the Portkey to Durmstrang; Harry had never been there nor was it a location that he could find on a map, in addition to being terribly far away, which made Portkey creation dangerous to amateurs purely because it inspired fear in them.

"One of the most important aspects of Portkey creation, and Apparation to an extent, is that the longer distance means little. It is magic, which often voids any type of muggle physics. However, if you cast the spell without confidence, your concentration often wavers and that is the reason that the spell fails disastrously. So just believe that the two spots are next to each other, and the spell goes off without a problem." Nicolas said brightly before tapping his wand on his new polka-dot hat, making it glow blue slightly. The four of them grabbed hold of it, each also holding a trunk full of their personal belongings, before reappearing in a howling wind before an intimidating fortress.

Having sunk into the foot of snow upon arrival, Nicolas quickly pounded harshly on the massive doors – at least twenty feet high and made up of thick logs that could have come from the heart of the Forbidden Forest itself. They were banded by steel or iron hinges connected by bolts the size of Harry's fist; no doubt another tree was behind it, barring entrance. An inscription high in the stone above the doors was centered on the keystone; it was in Russian, Harry thought, but Nicolas said that it was the school's motto: _Boys enter, only men emerge_. Nicolas went on to mention that it was somewhat dated from the school's former chauvinistic admittance policy of males only – witches were home-schooled even when Nicolas had met students during his Tri-Wizard Tournament during his own tuition at Beauxbatons in the 14th century.

Finally, the doors opened and a swarthy-looking man, sporting the same slicked back hair that Karkaroff had, emerged wearing a giant fur coat. Harry noticed that it was two students – they may even have been first years – who had pulled the doors open; no wonder the male students had looked much bigger than their Hogwarts counterparts if they did this sort of work regularly. The man ushered them inside and the boys closed the doors behind them.

"Is dis true, der Great Nicolas Flame-al comes to Durmstrang! It is much honor, Meister Flame-al!" The fur-wearer said in a thick accent with a deep bow to Nicolas. Nicolas, with a face as serious as Harry had ever seen, returned it with a nod of his head.

"Miko! Leave us." A man said harshly to the fur-wearer as he came into the room at a near run. He hadn't looked to be running, indeed it looked a casual stride, but he'd crossed the room faster than Harry would have at a jog. He was quite pale, reminding Harry almost of Professor Snape in some ways, though he had a lean muscular quality to him. His English, Harry also noted, was spoken in a flawless British accent. Nicolas smiled for the first time since they'd entered the halls of Durmstrang.

"Oh, Vaclar, there's no need for all these formalities, I'm sure you know." Nicolas said, waving off the deep bow from his former apprentice. '_So this is Vaclar…spooky_.' Harry thought to himself.

"Master, I trust your trip was pleasant? And Madam Flamel, you look even more radiant than I remembered. So good to see you both again." Vaclar said smoothly, kissing the back of her hand. Nicolas introduced Elwood and Harry, mentioning that the later was his most recent apprentice.

"Master Windsor, I'm sure the students staying here will enjoy your company. Apprentice." He said, first regarding Elwood warmly, then only briefly glancing in Harry's direction while acknowledging him. Apparently Harry had gotten off to a rough start already.

"House elves will take your things to your rooms, if you'll follow me." Vaclar led all of them to a line of suites, first showing Elwood and then the Flamels to their lushly furnished rooms. Each had a roaring fireplace and vast windows overlooking the beautiful Durmstrang landscape that Viktor had always mentioned, where the sun was setting in a beautiful display of a crimson horizon. The beds were not four-posters, but equally large and looked even more cushy and comfortable. Harry's room was last, and Vaclar had to lead him a good distance away, and down four flights of stairs to get to his room.

"Servants' quarters, where apprentices belong." Vaclar said shortly before walking away. Harry fought back his outrage – there was little in his room except for stone walls, a small window slit Harry thought might be useful for defense, but let in little light, a cot, and a chamber pot. Why was he receiving this harsh treatment when the others were treated as honored guests? What did his status as 'apprentice' mean, anyway? Harry stormed up to Nicolas' rooms, where Nicolas waited with an expectant look on his face.

"I take it your rooms are in the Servants' Quarters, Harry?" Harry nodded, then opened his mouth to continue before Nicolas continued, "And they're quite Spartan, with only a bed and a chamber pot?" Harry nodded again, but Nicolas continued, "And you're outraged at Vaclar's treatment of you?" Harry nodded again but made no move to speak as Nicolas continued, "Vaclar has a…more traditional view of apprenticeships than I do, Harry. While he was my own apprentice, he insisted on his quarters meeting that same description, despite my protests to the contrary. He is quite an accomplished Alchemist and is very adept with a wand; he's also a fine Legilimens, so I'd advise keeping even your thoughts to yourself. Ignore his treatment of you if you can; he'll likely ignore you anyway, as he usually overlooks apprentices. Renaud received similar treatment during his visit here, and at the time Vaclar had only been twenty years out of his own apprenticeship."

Harry grudgingly agreed, and returned to his room to fetch his warmer boots and robes; not having thought they'd arrive in the middle of a snowstorm, he didn't think to wear them. He heard a knock on the open door to his room and turned around quickly, surprised that he hadn't heard anyone come up. He found a very pale boy – did everyone around here live in dungeons? – with a bit of a smirk on his face. He didn't look much older than Harry – late teens or early twenties at the latest – and leaned casually against the doorframe. He had the same look that Vaclar did about him – lean muscle, a frame that hid greater strength than might be expected; it was difficult for Harry to voice just why he felt that way about them, but there was no doubting his feelings.

"I'd heard of the arrival of another apprentice. My greetings, I am Apprentice Zarek, humble servant of Master Vaclar." Zarek offered his hand, which Harry took and replied, "I'm Harry, apprentice to Master Flamel."

"Of course. Youngest he's ever taken, I've heard." Zarek said; he seemed to be studying Harry as his eyes swept over the younger boy, but Harry didn't feel the almost expected thrust of legilimency.

"Yeah, I guess so. We just sort of met one day." Harry said carefully – for some reason, he didn't trust Zarek. Maybe he just resembled a Slytherin too much with his formality and subtle prodding, but something rubbed Harry a bit wrong about him.

"Such modesty doesn't suit the apprentice of one as legendary – nearly mythical – as Nicolas Flamel. How have you found your room?" The boy smirked as he surveyed the bare room.

"It's not the worst I've seen. I'm sure it will be an adequate place to sleep. Is your room similar, as a fellow apprentice?" The boy nodded, though he gave a brief glance at the bed, and said, "Nearly identical. Master Vaclar does it to instill character in budding apprentices such as ourselves. My quarters at home are similar, as well."

"Oh? I was under the impression that Vaclar was the Headmaster here, don't you live here with him?" The other boy laughed slightly at this and said, "Whatever gave you the idea that he was Headmaster? The Durmstrang Headmaster is some fool who bustles about in a great fur cloak – he thinks it intimidating, for some reason."

"Oh…I saw Vaclar," the other boy corrected him immediately with, "_Master_ Vaclar!"

"Er…sorry, Master Vaclar was ordering the Durmstrang Headmaster about like a house elf, so I just assumed…" The other boy smirked somewhat cruelly at this.

Zarek began somewhat harshly in a near hiss, "_Always_ show Master Vaclar the proper respect! But yes…everyone at Durmstrang is rather deferential to Master Vaclar, as he is quite well known in this area. They are even oddly wary of me, as his apprentice. Anyway, what does Master Flamel have you work on?" Zarek sounded quite eager when he asked his last question.

"Apprentice!" Another hiss sounded from the hallway, and Zarek's eyes widened as he bowed and said, "Master Vaclar!"

Vaclar glared cruelly at the two boys, though Harry was quite confused as he certainly hadn't done anything – perhaps Snape had relatives from this area, and Vaclar said in barely more than a whisper, "I do not believe that you came to talk with children even more ignorant than yourself."

"Of course, Master. I was just going to meet the other guests and introduce myself." Zarek bowed deeply and climbed the nearby staircase. Harry received one more glare from Vaclar before he turned and departed. Harry shook his head in near disbelief before heading up the stairs – he would sure get in shape quickly if he stayed at Durmstrang much longer, with all of the bloody stairs – back to the Flamels' suite. When he made it there, he found it to be the popular place, with at least ten distinguished looking wizards all crowding around Nicolas.

"Ah, Harry, I was wondering when you might show up! Gentlemen, ladies…those of you I can't in good conscience refer to as 'gentlemen', please meet my new apprentice, Harry!" Nicolas said, slapping Harry jovially on the back while at least two, likely those who he couldn't refer to as gentlemen, adopted scowls.

Harry received many introductions – Both Maude and Renaud were there and winked conspiratorially at him – and wasn't able to remember most of them. One memorable figure, though, stuck out in his mind as the exchange silenced most of the room.

"My name is Fulcanelli, Apprentice. I hope your master has not been as incompetent in his tuition as I have heard rumors of and seen first hand in his other apprentices. I'd hate to have to deny another Mastery." Said a rather sour-looking man with a slight French accent and a nasty sneer on his unpleasant face. Immediately, indeed so fast that Harry was certain he'd Apparated, Vaclar was at Harry's side scowling even more fiercely at this Fulcanelli.

"I'd suggest, Jean-Yves, that you leave Harry alone before he is forced to cleanse himself from the filth that surrounds you. Although, I suppose you at least wouldn't be defeated by a mere Apprentice this time, with so many of us willing to fight you on his behalf." Vaclar said in his characteristic whisper, a cruel smirk on his face. Vaclar fight on his behalf? Harry was beginning to doubt the odd man's sanity at this point. His words seemed to be effective to the rude Frenchman, however, because he stormed away and out of Flamel's room. Nicolas broke the silence with a good-natured whine.

"Did you have to drive him away? I do so enjoy his little plotting." Everyone except Vaclar and Harry laughed – the latter just not understanding what went on. Vaclar, with a little smirk, apologized and then turned to Harry before publicly humiliating him.

"What were you thinking, you foolish child? Do you not understand how dangerous that man could be? Idiot Apprentices…" Vaclar muttered the last bit as he turned away from Harry and continued casual conversation with others in the room.

Small talk continued for another few hours until Nicolas declared that he would be retiring for the evening and would see everyone the next morning. Harry said his farewells but stayed a bit afterward, as Nicolas had expected.

"So, Harry, you got your first glimpse into the politics of our profession today. What did you think?" Harry was slightly flattered at the description of 'our' profession, but ignored it and answered the question.

"Well, I first thought that Vaclar hated me for no reason, but then he stuck up for me when Fulcanelli insulted me. Something else I don't understand…some history there?" Harry was quite interested in this answer, truthfully, to alleviate his confusion surrounding most of the evening.

"Yes, a good bit of it. Jean-Yves was a young French wizard born the end of last century. He applied for an apprenticeship, but I turned him down. I had just finished teaching another apprentice and was looking forward to some quiet time for my own research. Anyway, he has been…rather antagonistic towards me ever since." Harry was surprised that the wizard, who Flamel had revealed to be at least 100 years old, was as sprightly as he'd seemed; Dumbledore was the same way, though, so maybe that wasn't uncommon amongst Alchemists.

"Fulcanelli and Vaclar, however, have their own history. Fulcanelli has been focused, one might say obsessed, even, with learning the secret of the Philosopher's Stone, which is why he wanted to be my apprentice those many years ago. He has become a respected Alchemist on his own merits, I suppose, but the Stone is one goal that eluded him all this time. He thought I'd shared my secret with Vaclar – of all people – when he was my apprentice, so he kidnapped him and attempted to force him to reveal the knowledge. Vaclar, however, was in his third year of his apprenticeship with me, and had already graduated from Durmstrang as their reigning Dueling champion. Vaclar escaped, killing Fulcanelli's own apprentice and defeating Fulcanelli himself; the two have been on less than polite terms ever since. But Vaclar always invites him to these little get-togethers as a bit of a snub, as though he's no real threat." Nicolas finished this last bit with a small smile.

"But Vaclar never knew about the Philosopher's Stone, as he wouldn't have cared," Harry said with his own smirk, having discovered the secret after a bit of deliberation. "After all, he was probably the first apprentice you took who'd already obtained immortality." Nicolas smiled broadly and nodded in concession.

"Very good, Harry, an excellent deduction. Ah, and Vaclar's always so careful to hide his fangs, he may be upset that you learned it so quickly. Yes, he's a vampire. Just so as to not mislead you, though, a great majority of vampires cannot use magic as Vaclar, and his apprentice, can. Most vampires were either muggles or children without instruction in magic – only those who have some skill in magic retain its use. Some say that their skill is diminished, but having seen Vaclar's fine skills firsthand, I haven't believed that for some time. I believe Vaclar turned his most recent apprentice himself, so impressed was he with the boy. Anyway, Harry, you have a long day of lectures and seminars tomorrow, so off to bed with you!" Harry nodded and returned to his chambers, which were thankfully empty – he'd almost expected another visitor, as he hadn't had a moment to himself since he'd arrived at the massive school.

And indeed, Durmstrang was impressively large, dwarfing Hogwarts several times over, if Harry was correct. Of course, it had things like guest quarters that Hogwarts lacked, but from what Harry knew of geography, the school also was responsible for the education of students from many countries, unlike Hogwarts and Beauxbatons; though Hogwarts served all of Ireland, too, and Beauxbatons likely took students from countries like Luxembourg, Belgium, Monaco, and perhaps even Switzerland.

The night passed quickly and uneventfully, and Harry found himself the next day in a series of lectures and seminars on ever more esoteric topics, starting with a debate on the folly of traditional dependence on Elder Furthark Runic schemes – the master alchemist recommended Mayan runes as an alternative. Nicolas' private commentary to Harry was that the Furthark were of paramount importance because of their universal utility and relative simplicity, but that Mayan runes did indeed offer a bit of flexibility for advanced work. Harry knew that meant that he'd be responsible for learning more Mayan soon, and made a mental note to get an early start on it. Another Master presented his notes on a topic Harry had studied fairly recently – base material affects on enchanting – so he was able to follow the presentation more completely than any of the rest.

Of constant annoyance to Harry was Master Vaclar's apprentice Zarek, who continually sat near him and made snide comments about his own superiority to Harry with his obvious ignorance about many subjects. Harry had to fight back several comments about his own apprenticeship with Nicolas only beginning, unlike Zarek's, but decided to just ignore the vampire. Now that he was aware of the boy's, and Vaclar's, nature, it was difficult to see how he'd missed it before. They had all of the classic signs – meaning that they resembled Snape, basically – and if Harry looked hard when they talked, he could occasionally see their fangs. Despite the fact that they'd made no move to suck his blood, Harry made sure to cast a locking charm on his door each night; perhaps it was being racist, but Harry blamed it on his unfamiliarity with vampires.

Three days into the Alchemical conference, Harry was excited for its upcoming conclusion. That isn't to say that he didn't find much of it very interesting; he did, in fact, and he'd learned a lot, and taken copious notes of all the presentations so that he could go back to them when his study of some topics was sufficiently advanced to make better use of the material. However, he found himself missing life at the Flamels' manor, and even his daily routine at the Reserve. He never thought that he'd be enough like Hagrid to enjoy spending time with dragons, but it was pretty exhilarating now that he didn't feel as though the dragons held every advantage over him. Thinking of Hagrid and dragons made Harry get an image of an enlarged version of himself wrestling a dragon before Vanishing its dung – perhaps he needed to brush up on Engorgement Charms, he considered thoughtfully…

Harry was broken out of his lunchtime reverie when Zarek took the seat next to him, a goblet full of red liquid – Harry hoped that was synthetic blood – his only source of food.

"So, Harry, our final meal together. Master Vaclar has invited me to supper with several prominent guests of the conference, so I won't be enjoying your company tonight." Zarek said, emphasizing the important guests he'd be eating with tonight.

"Well that's great for you, Zarek. Really fantastic. Shame I won't be spending every minute of the day with you." Harry said, his patience for the other apprentice having dissolved some time over the previous three days of his presence.

"No need to get testy about it, Harry. Of course, it's really just that I'm ready for conversations at that level, and you just aren't. It all comes down to the level of research you've put into a subject – you really need to know something in depth to have intelligent discussions. Those that haven't just don't understand. My own work, my thesis, will be the basis for my Masterpiece, I believe. It's a rather exhaustive in-depth treatise on the power of blood. I detail effects on blood wards, potions, runes traced in blood, even effects on vampires. Blood taken from others is what gives us superiority over you mortals, of course, particularly wizard blood above all others. But you'd know that if you had even finished school, of course." Zarek finished with a superior look that could have fit perfectly on Draco Malfoy's face and departed from Harry's lunch table. Harry soon did the same, returning to his room to pack what few things he had in preparation for his departure from Durmstrang later in the evening. Zarek's tirade was old – Harry suspected he knew as much about Zarek's thesis as Zarek himself did, after hearing so much about it – but occupied Harry's thoughts as he packed. Of course, it did sound interesting to Harry, even if he realized his own knowledge on the use of blood was far from encyclopedic, and hardly even elementary. Harry's mind was drawn to the impossibly complex Arithmantic calculations that Nicolas had shown him regarding blood wards, which Harry was certain Zarek had included in his treatise.

Though he was still a year into his apprenticeship, Harry's time with Zarek's boastfulness drew his mind to his own potential thesis. All apprentices were required to complete something of that nature, a display of their learning; budding alchemists were particularly competitive with one another regarding the usefulness of their own contribution to the field. Zarek's would be hard to beat in that sense, Harry reluctantly admitted; ignoring some jealousy he wasn't sure of the origin of, Harry shook his complete lack of topic for his thesis from his mind and focused on packing his trunk.

He reverently took his spare-time project, which currently consisted of a long and perfectly straight ash handle and hundreds of birch twigs, some of which might be suitable for the end of his broom, out and re-cast some of the spells on the broomstick. It was trial and error, he found, creating a broomstick. He cast some of the proper rudimentary enchantments temporarily on the ash handle and see how it flew. Originally the branch, for at the time, it was straight off the tree, had a bend in it and it listed terribly to the left. He'd straightened it out and found that it wouldn't hover properly, due to a knot on the bottom of it. After removing the bark and smoothing it out with some of the supplies in his Broom-crafting kit, it was better. He'd lately made some very fine adjustments with the front of the broom – which he'd optimized for diving and high-speed maneuvering by duplicating the design of the Firebolt – after observing some of the broomsticks of the future in his new Pensieve.

The twigs were the most time-consuming part, and one that he found quite boring. Each twig was examined, straightened, and if it met the qualifications of careful scrutiny, was trimmed to proper length and set aside. Eventually he'd attach them to the ash handle to increase the aerodynamics of the broom – though he truthfully wasn't sure just how that made any sense, from what little he knew of muggle physics – and lastly carve the runes and cast the enchantments one last time to make them permanent.

It was still a good ways from complete, however, likely requiring another week or so of work at his current pace. He always found it a welcome respite from some of the more boring tasks of alchemy, however, such as the three potions that were simmering for Nicolas. All three needed a few hours of congealing, which left him with nothing better to do than work on his broomstick.

His evening taken by those pursuits, he never noticed that Nicolas spent most of his time this last day of the conference speaking with one particular member of the conference, who was being less than agreeable to the ancient alchemist's request. Nicolas, however, won the man over to his way of thinking soon after Harry finished his work on the broomstick; by the time Harry brought the potions to Nicolas' room, Nicolas was back there waiting for him with a smile.

"All packed, Harry? I know Elwood was quite disappointed that he has to leave his new friends, but I promised him his own owl to write them as pen-pals. It will probably have to be an eagle owl – they're much more suited for long distances, you know. You could take him tomorrow to Diagon Alley and pick it out with him, perhaps. And Perenelle was looking at new robes just the other day, she does so like to keep up on the latest fashions. Why don't you three make a day of it after your chores on the Reserve? I think it sounds like a splendid little vacation after our conference." Harry thought it a bit odd – why didn't Nicolas get Perenelle some new robes for Christmas? On second thought, knowing the man's taste, that had probably been forbidden hundreds of years ago with good reason; Harry said as much to Nicolas, who just smiled and shrugged.

The conference ended with many of the alchemists wishing Harry well in his studies and several promising to keep up a correspondence. Likely they wanted such a correspondence with Nicolas, but he hadn't been agreeable to that in many years, preferring not to be bombarded with owls every morning – even though he still often was.

The following two days were spend mostly winding down; the greenhouses needed a bit of work as the weeds and some of the more aggressive plants were attacking and invading foreign territories. The stables were fine for the most part, but the griffins' nails were particularly sharp as Harry trimmed them, and he was forced to close several gashes with his meager knowledge of healing charms; Elwood also said that the Abraxans had missed his brushing, but Harry couldn't notice.

At the Reserve, the basilisk had been thoroughly disappointed by his temporary disappearance – apparently, it looked forward to conversations with him, so he spent an extra hour with Agnes learning about the glorious history of Dark wizards taught to it by its previous master. Harry actually thought it was interesting, and recognized more than a few of the historical wizards; the alternate side to the story presented in History of Magic brought up some interesting points in Harry's mind that he wanted to look up later in Flamel's library.

The dragons hadn't missed him, though. Harry's practiced Engorgement charm made him tower over even Hagrid's little brother Grawp as he playfully wrestled the shocked Hebridean Black before Vanishing the large pile of dung nearby. He was forced to turn aside its head as it breathed flame, but found he could easily do so, as well as pin the razor-sharp claws harmlessly to the side. He Apparated away with a loud 'pop' and returned himself to normal size before returning to the Flamel manor, where Nicolas was waiting.

"Ah, Harry, I see you've been having fun at the Reserve!" Nicolas said happily, eying Harry's stained work robe. "We've a bit to discuss, now, unfortunately, so take a seat." Harry did so somewhat warily – Nicolas was rarely this serious.

"I believe that you've learned a tremendous amount in these months of your apprenticeship, Harry. Your magic has become second nature in many cases, and what you can do has progressed far beyond standard O.W.L. level. In that respect, we have achieved what we aimed for – even in subjects such as Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, you will no doubt score well on those tests; in something like Transfiguration or Charms, an 'O' is the only sensible score for you. Having succeeded in that, however, I feel that in other ways, your education is lacking." Nicolas began. Harry couldn't think of anything taught at Hogwarts besides certain N.E.W.T. level material that he couldn't do better than almost any student there, and he said as much to Nicolas.

"Oh, I don't mean in that sense, Harry. No, you have progressed very well; even the occasional potion that requires Astronomy calculations show that you've learned that as well. However, certain things Hogwarts doesn't teach. You don't have a thorough understanding of certain magical creatures, for instance. And that is what the next phase of your training will emphasize, Harry. So pack all of your things; this will take several months, of course, and be sure to include enough potions ingredients to make several doses of the language potions – you will certainly need those. And…one last thing…" Nicolas pointed his wand at Harry, who felt no change in himself. Odd, he almost expected to be transfigured into a centaur or something.

Harry quickly packed everything he owned here in the past – which wasn't much other than what he'd taken to the conference, except the odd Christmas gifts that Nicolas had given him – and met Nicolas downstairs an hour later.

"Alright, Harry. I wish you the best of luck in this next phase, and I'll see you in about a month. Do enjoy it – this is the first 'Journeyman'-type experience you'll have, but you'll no doubt have more – and try to throw away any preconceived notions you may have. This first experience, you'll be a quasi-apprentice to a skilled wand-user, so you'll no doubt hone those skills as well under his tutelage. Here's your Portkey." Nicolas indicated polka-dotted hat that had seen years of use, apparently, which Harry took hold of along with his trunk.

When he arrived at the destination and was free of the hook behind his belly, he looked up and saw the familiar superior smirk of a young vampire, along with the glare of an older one.

"Oh, bugger…" Harry whispered nearly inaudibly as he realized how he'd be spending the next month.


	4. Life with Vampires

Lord Vaclar was a demanding instructor.

Not like Nicolas, who in his own way was quite demanding of Harry during the four months they'd spent together, keeping him constantly occupied with work and forcing him to deal with dangerous Magical Creatures; Harry had excelled in this form of tuition, and his skill at various kinds of magic had increased several fold, by his own estimations.

Nor like Professor Snape in detentions, where Harry had scrubbed out cauldrons and floors by hand with a variety of cleaners as Snape dictated how useless he was. Though truthfully, he'd managed to learn quite a bit from Snape's instruction as well, earning a decent grade on the O.W.L. exam that he took last June.

No, Vaclar was a whole different sort of demanding. He didn't insult Harry without a reason – he always referenced a recent mistake the boy had made, so that Harry knew exactly why he was, as Snape would put it, a "dunderhead". He didn't give Harry chores with implied direction to practice his complex spellwork. Chores with Vaclar, instead, were labor intensive but useful to the vampire Lord, and served as a time with which he could lecture. The proper role of Harry in a prestigious apprenticeship such as Nicolas' was a popular topic, as was magical theory – Harry had learned early on to charm a quill so that he didn't have to take notes while brewing potions, for instance.

In the first few days, it had become apparent to Vaclar that Harry was not learning enough from this method of teaching – focusing on the task of brewing or rearranging the current room while cleaning, for example, and trying to review the notes at a later time – so Vaclar had taken to occasionally randomly cursing Harry to ensure that he paid proper attention. Interrupting the brewing process of some of the potions was potentially explosive, and the spells often left marks on the walls that made Harry's job of cleaning that much more difficult, but it was hardly Vaclar's fault that Harry was so single-minded.

The very first thing that Vaclar did when Harry arrived was to inspect his belongings. He took objection to the warm clothes enspelled by Nicolas, and confiscated them.

"If you are not capable of even these simple enchantments, then you do not deserve to use them." He'd said in Russian as Harry shivered when the inspection continued. Vaclar took offense at so many Muggle-style clothes as well; he believed in a proper separation between the Wizarding and Muggle populations, and that Wizards should stick to robes and other traditional garments. Harry's Russian still wasn't good, but he understood enough of the gist of Vaclar's rant to add several words to his expanding vocabulary anyway.

After that, he was set off to unpack his things into his new room. The room, which was most similar to a cupboard, was dark, with no windows or any sort of natural light, and so dank and musty and moldy smelling that Harry nearly gagged.

"Is this supposed to increase my appreciation for House Elves?" Harry muttered under his breath at this not-unexpected treatment. However, Harry had been an apprentice for four months, now, and in that time had cleaned out far more disgusting places than a moldy cupboard, so he drew his wand and quickly set about fixing up his erstwhile home.

A barrage of "_Scourgify_" spells littered the walls, floor, and ceiling as Harry scoured every inch with nearly every cleaning charm he knew. A quick "_Tergeo_" scoured the grime off of the walls, which Harry then Vanished it in distaste after bottling some. After all, if pond scum was a common ingredient, then moldy grime had to have its place in a potion somewhere.

Harry also decided that he needed a bit more breathing room than the current space allowed, so he slowly added a subtle Undetectable Extension Charm – he'd learned it fairly recently from Nicolas, and it was a tricky, N.E.W.T. level Charm. It was quite challenging to work the charm on an entire room like this, since he had practiced applying the charm more on containers such as backpacks and such, the easiest application, but he managed to nearly double the available space, which made it quite a bit more comfortable. After three failed attempts, he also managed to transfigure the lumpy mattress on the floor – made of what he thought was straw – into a simple wooden bed frame and comfortable mattress with sheets.

"Apprentice," Zarek, now the Senior Apprentice, called out mockingly from the doorway, "Master Vaclar has decided that it is time for your first lesson." Harry trudged away, still freezing cold in the drafty mansion without the enchanted robes from Nicolas, as he heard Zarek muttering under his breath, still in the doorway. Ignoring him, he continued to his first lesson.

In the smallest of the several laboratories Harry had found so far – there was no actual tour, of course, but Harry was expected to know where everything was – Vaclar began the day's lesson.

"You will clean this room while I lecture." He said, again in Russian. Harry set about quietly muttering cleaning and scouring charms all around the room's many shelves, cleaning the dusty heavy curtains – which of course remained drawn in the vampire's house at all times – and brightened the room considerably with a few charms on the dull lighting fixtures.

"The Master/Apprentice relationship goes back to time immemorial…" Vaclar began on his first lesson. Harry informally titled this lecture series, "Why Harry should be so grateful to Nicolas for accepting his unworthy self as an Apprentice." One sub-lecture in the series, "Why Vaclar was such a better apprentice to Nicolas than Harry could ever possibly be," was particularly revealing about the vampire himself, if Harry read between the lines.

Vaclar was a promising young Durmstrang graduate and Dueling Champion when he'd been turned against his will by a powerful old vampire – whom he'd subsequently killed. His Turning – and Harry well learned that this was a significant event in a vampire's life and deserved capitalization – had forced him to live life differently than he'd expected, as he was suddenly ostracized by former friends and mentors. British Wizards were not alone in their racism towards magical creatures, it seemed, and Vaclar was nearly killed several times by would-be vampire hunters, including his main rival and second finest Dueling Champion of Vaclar's year at Durmstrang.

Nicolas, however, in the old man's infinite wisdom and patience, was the one who'd saved Vaclar from the typical vampire's short life of abduction and murder. Indeed, Vaclar gained an understanding of mortals from Nicolas, the one man who was arguably not one, that allowed him to coexist with them. Of course, the great respect he received from being Nicolas' apprentice helped somewhat, as did the instruction in Alchemy.

Despite the vampire's rather cruel treatment and harsh teaching techniques, then, Harry felt a budding respect for Vaclar. He certainly wasn't 'nice' to Harry, as Nicolas was, but seemed to legitimately want him to learn many kinds of varied lessons.

Zarek, on the other hand, infuriated Harry daily. That first day, Zarek's muttering had been to undo all of the enchantments that Harry had cast on his room, leaving him once more with a cupboard-sized room crowded with a lumpy mattress and trunk. At least he couldn't recreate the grime, Harry thought angrily as he re-cast all the spells. It wasn't the last time he'd had to do so, as Zarek cancelled every spell Harry could think to cast on the room whenever he passed by, so that every time Harry entered, it was the same cupboard and lumpy mattress.

Defiantly, Harry persevered through the treatment, as each day he merely got much faster and more comfortable at casting the spells, and his bed was now a fine finished mahogany thing that looked hand-carved from a single tree, instead of pine planks that looked like a drunken college student's creation with his first batch of power tools.

It was another four days before their schedule of lessons had its first interruption, in the form of a visitor late at night, when Harry was already in his quarters reviewing the day's lessons so that he would remember them well in the morning.

"Lord Vaclar!" A large man called out in Russian after he had arrived outside with a sharp 'Crack!' and knocked on the door. Vaclar strode out, appearing almost immediately – Harry had no clue how he managed to always do that – and opened the door. What could have almost passed for a welcoming expression on his face appeared as he greeted the bear of a man.

"Alferii, it is good to see you again." The vampire said smoothly in greeting. Then, unbelievably, the man picked up the vampire in a crushing hug, actually lifting him up off the ground. The man wasn't quite the size of Hagrid, but he was likely at least seven feet tall, and must have weighed four hundred pounds if he weighed anything. He was built like a gorilla, with a ragged but fairly short mane of hair that encircled his head and face.

"You are getting weak, my friend! Your old age, I think!" The man, Alferii, said boisterously, obviously in jest as a familiar smirk arose on Vaclar's face.

"Oh, I just thought it would be rude for me to show up my guest so easily before his introduction to the latest Apprentice to Master Nicolas Flamel." At this announcement, the Russian looked around with a grin, his eyes finally resting on Harry, who had approached the Entrance Hall when he first heard the crack of Apparition.

"This little boy? He must be the youngest I have ever seen Nicolas take!" Harry deciphered, still having only a few translation problems with Russian after nearly a solid week of speaking it.

"Indeed." Vaclar said, giving away nothing. '_Interesting…even around this obvious friend, he is still guarded. Constant Vigilance, I suppose…_' Harry thought.

"And a vampire, too. Odd that Nicolas would choose him." '_WHAT!?_' Harry thought frantically, looking at himself. His arms were quite pale, come to think of it…even paler than they had been at Hogwarts. And he'd thought that he'd gotten quite a tan with all the time spent outside at the Reserve, in the greenhouse, in the barn, driving to the Muggle city…he had to have gotten a tan. He self-consciously checked his teeth, and sure enough he had fangs like he'd seen on occasion displayed by Vaclar and Zarek.

But when had he been turned? He certainly remembered no bite. It could have happened when he was asleep, he reasoned…but then, Flamel _had_ hit him with an unknown transfiguration spell before the Portkey had whisked him away. And there were no mirrors around – obviously, as they were useless to a vampire – so he wouldn't have noticed. That must have been it – Flamel, for whatever reason, had transfigured him to look like a vampire. At least he hadn't joined the blood-sucking demons of the night, he thought thankfully. Bad enough that he had to look like some pale teenage malcontent.

"Yes, well, unorthodoxy is, of course, Master Flamel's trademark." Vaclar said with a glance at Harry that was unreadable to the boy.

"And of course, you would never speak ill of your Master, even for his choice in boys to train, eh? Still the same Vaclar, then!" The Russian man laughed boisterously at this, and Vaclar smirked in agreement. Harry was still too thankful that he wasn't a vampire to focus too hard on translating their discussion.

"Apprentice! Take our guest's bags to his room immediately, don't lay about like a useless coat rack!" Vaclar said in a harsh tone, for the first time addressing him. Harry nodded dutifully and went to grab the thick – and amazingly heavy – bags, which looked to be almost wraps of animal fur that were the man's luggage.

"Ah, I will join you to the room, then, boy." The Russian said as he moved away from Vaclar. As Harry struggled up the stairs with the two bags, the Russian eyed him somewhat oddly. Of course, if Vaclar's supposed superhuman strength was any indicator, then Harry as a vampire should have been able to heft the load without much difficulty. As it was, he knew that only the permanent enhancement potion he'd taken at the start of his apprenticeship with Nicolas was allowing him to carry the bags at all.

"You are weak for a vampire, boy." The Russian said in a doubtful voice when they finally reached the rather luxurious guest room. Vaclar had many, each of them almost ten times the size of Harry's quarters.

"Yeah, well, I'm still young and growing." Harry said uncomfortably in a slow use of the Russian language. The Russian man smiled broadly at this proclamation.

"Ahaha! I like you boy, you have spirit! Not yet crushed by Vaclar, eh? Good for you, he is hard to take sometimes. I will help you to be stronger, then, young vampire. And how to handle the strong, too, I think. With an attitude like yours, you will need it!" The Russian smacked him on the shoulder – Harry barely refrained from wincing as he did – and retreated to the comfort of his room as Harry did the same.

Later than usual to bed because of the Russian man's arrival, Harry also heard something else for the first time that night.

"Yes," a deep voice called out sensually; there was something inherently wrong about the voice that made Harry shiver unconsciously as he lay in his bed, "Yes, it's only a bit farther…I just know you'll like what you'll find there." Harry was finally able to identify the Russian tongue as belonging to Zarek, though he usually did not speak in such a deep voice. Kissing noises could then be heard as Harry got up out of bed, not bothering to put on the glasses that he knew he no longer needed except for enchantment purposes.

He glanced out into the hallway just in time to see a rather pretty young girl – possibly fifteen or sixteen – with beautiful dark brown hair and a well-tailored gown pulled into Zarek's room, Zarek's pale hands gripping her arms tightly as she moved in what seemed to be a trance. Not really wanting to know all that much about the vampire git's habits with women, Harry quickly retreated back into his own room and contemplated self-_Obliviation_ as he tried to go to bed.

"No, no, you weak little vampire!" Alferii yelled at Harry at the end of his weeklong stay. Vaclar would not allow these lessons – which the Russian called "Vampire fighting techniques" just to annoy Vaclar, Harry thought – to cut into his usual daily lectures, so they cut into the already short time Vaclar had granted to Harry to sleep.

"You duck out the way of my attack, let my momentum trip me up! I put more force in my attacks because I am stronger – like older vampire! – so use that to your advantage! Again!" Alferii continued his yell, immediately continuing his blisteringly fast assault.

Harry had found that, surprisingly, he took to the big Russian man's style of fighting quite quickly. After all, he'd spent most of his childhood evading clumsy tackles and grabs from Dudley, so he supposed that his quick reflexes and evasive – "slippery", Alferii called him – nature was an outgrowth of his childhood. Probably the only positive outgrowth, he reflected. Of course, Fred and George Weasley whipping Bludgers at me during Quidditch practice for their benefit and mine probably never hurt either, at least in terms of situational awareness.

"Good, Harry. Your lessons with me are done, I think. Good enough at fighting, I think, for you to go with me and Vaclar on our trip. And his little boy, too." Harry had no idea what Alferii was talking about, of course, and said as much.

"Vaclar didn't tell you? Oh…well, he left the decision to take you up to me, anyway, so I guess that's not surprising. There is a big meeting of the vampires in the region. It's why I'm here in the first place, actually. I found out about it, but not the specifics, so I had to ask Vaclar. He told me to come when I did, and that he'd give me the information when I got here. I'm not…strictly…invited, you might say. But I'm going anyway." Alferii gave a rather bloodthirsty smile at this, despite his not being a vampire.

"I see…so, Alferii, what are you exactly, that you spend so much time around vampires. I mean, you know better than anyone I've seen how to fight them, but you're friends with Vaclar." Alferii nodded seriously.

"Well, Harry, that's a pretty simple one. I'm a Hunter. Kill vampires, you know. Thing is, with me, I kill the rogues. The vampires on the up and up don't mind me, then, let me be. Some, like Vaclar, are even friendly towards me." Alferii said, confirming what Harry suspected. Only someone with vast amounts of experience fighting vampires or beings equally physically formidable would be able to, or even think of, teaching the fighting tactics and techniques that Alferii had.

"I thought so…so what is this meeting all about, anyway?" Harry questioned, curious.

"Bit surprising, kid – most young vampires get pretty nervous around me when I tell them I'm a Hunter. I like that about you – guts." '_Oh right, I'm supposed to be a vampire now…_' Harry thought, adopting a smile on his face as he repressed his surprise and embarrassment at having forgotten the transfiguration of his features by Nicolas.

"Anyway, the meeting's about one of the rogues that's loose. I've been tracking him – or them, I suppose – for a few years now. Vaclar's helped me out a bit from time to time, so he told me about this meeting the vampires are having, as a bit of a favor. I'm dropping in a bit unexpectedly," his grin was once more rather feral as he finished.

"Why are the vampires concerning themselves with these rogues? I mean, one of my friends in school kinda wanted to be a Vampire Hunter for a while," indeed, it was Ron's ambition throughout second year, "So wouldn't one of you guys normally handle it?"

"Ah, well that's the thing, and why I personally think there's more than one rogue. They're too good, too successful. The respectable vampires are running low on feeding stock." Harry fought against his eyes widening at the term 'feeding stock', realizing that a real vampire would think of townsfolk – some even of wizards – as nothing more than cattle.

"So these rogues are…killing people off? From local villages, I'd imagine?" Harry asked, confirming his own definition of what exactly defined a 'rogue' to vampires.

"That's right, Harry. And 'local' is as good a term as any, because almost all of the victims – been a few dozen, now, and more all the time – were from around the Carpathian foothills. Not much farther than a hundred or two hundred miles from here, I'd wager. And since Romania has probably more vampires than anywhere else, most of them in places like the foothills, if dozens of their cattle die suddenly, it becomes harder for the vampires to survive by only draining a little bit at each feeding, keeping their 'herd' alive." The situation became much clearer to Harry now – these rogues would force all of the vampires in the region to kill when they fed.

"I see why this is such a problem that the vampires need to take action," Harry said carefully, still thoughtful.

"Yes. Of course, some of the more…conservative…vampires will no doubt argue that others are responsible." Alferii said casually, "Could even cast doubt on some of their enemies, I think." Harry wasn't sure what he meant, so he continued, "Werewolves, hags, maybe even goblins or wizards. Vampires have made many enemies over the years."

Harry's natural defense of Remus jumped out of his mouth almost immediately, "Werewolves? That's ridiculous! They can't help that they're cursed one night of –"

"It is most strange," Alferii interrupted, his eyes rather narrow, "For a vampire to defend werewolves so strongly. Unique, I think."

"Er…I…had a good friend who was a werewolf. And he couldn't control it, it wasn't his fault! He took every precaution when he transformed, and he was a great wizard." Harry said, realizing his mistake but unwilling to back down from his defense against Remus.

"I see. He is the exception, then, Harry. You are right, they cannot control it, but…most concern themselves little with 'precautions' to protect others on the night of the full moons. There is nothing that can control the feral emotions," '_Yet,_' Harry added with a thought, "that control them during those times, and many give into them even when they are not transformed. They live like animals by their own choice, mostly, and kill and infect many innocents. Most of them simply need to be killed, before they spread their curse." Harry was silent at the end of the man's rant. Truthfully, he could not say that he knew all that much about werewolves even in his own time, excepting Remus and what he'd learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, so he kept his mouth shut, accepting that Alferii assuredly knew better than himself.

"Now," the big Russian finished, "I think that's enough for tonight! Tomorrow night, we make for the vampire meeting. It will happen at night, of course – Vaclar's one of the oddballs who functions at all in the daytime – so make sure to get a good rest tonight."

With that, Harry went to bed, once again noticing Zarek's nightly visitor – a different girl every time, it seemed – before he went to bed. Harry still hadn't gotten the courage to risk insulting the vampire Senior Apprentice by questioning him about the girls, but always had a distinctly uneasy feeling about the whole thing. Perhaps he could ask Alferii later.

The following day's lessons flew by quickly, as Vaclar spent the morning lecturing on Arithmancy for curse-breaking, while Harry brewed four simultaneous cauldrons of Blood-Replenishing Potion. Vaclar always needed that particular potion, because he administered it to his victims – though he didn't call them that – after he drank their blood and _Obliviated_ them. After lunch, the topic switched to one still marginally related to curse-breaking: Egyptian and Gobbledegook runes.

Curse-breaking was one of the most interesting topics that Nicolas had introduced to Harry, and it seemed that Vaclar either knew about his interest and cared – unlikely – or enjoyed it himself. Harry also suspected that Vaclar had spent some time in the field as a curse-breaker, because a few of the warnings during the Arithmancy lesson were a bit too detailed for him to have come up with them as hypothetical.

Finally, dinner was served in the elegant formal dining room – another important topic Vaclar had introduced to Harry was the etiquette for formal dining – and Harry was sent to prepare himself for the meeting that night. A Portkey later and Vaclar, Zarek, and Harry arrived; Alferii could not arrive with them of course, because of the awkward position that would put Vaclar.

"Lord Vaclar, welcome," Two vampires, with an air about them similar to Vaclar's, but colder, if possible, walked up and greeted them smoothly in what Harry thought was Romanian – it was similar enough to French that Harry was having few problems adapting to it, with the help of his potion – as they arrived. One of them looked straight at Harry for a moment, seeming to sniff cautiously.

"Ceranis, I hope the night finds you well." Vaclar responded without any of the friendliness with which he'd greeted Alferii. The one who hadn't talked continued to stare at Harry, who'd become quite uncomfortable with it. Was his deception so easily seen through?

"Quite well, thank you…though, your apprentice seems to have had a better one. Did you just feast, boy?" The other, Ceranis, asked him anxiously. An unreadable look by Vaclar, though Harry knew it was because he'd made some sort of mistake, and he smiled uneasily. Not knowing the language well enough to speak, Harry just nodded.

"Yes, well, I can smell it on you…it's…distracting, to me, because I haven't eaten for a day. This one," he motioned to the vampire next to him, who was still barely holding back from Harry, a hungry gleam in his eye, "must have been longer." Ceranis whapped the other on the shoulder. Apparently even vampires have Crabbes amongst them.

When they turned, Harry muttered a quick scent-masking charm, like he used to hide from the dragons at the Reserve, and noticed a glare from Vaclar that said many things, such as, "How could you be so thoughtless, you fool," and, "You're lucky not to have been eaten."

"One among us," A Vampire dressed in an even more old-fashioned manner than most said coldly in a magically magnified voice, "Threatens all." Nearly one hundred vampires were gathered in this manor, and Harry took a moment to survey them. Some of them looked gaunt, with sallow, sunken cheeks and eye sockets, which darkened, looking eerie against the alabaster skin; others, like Vaclar and Ceranis and even Harry himself, looked nearly indistinguishable from humans except under close examination.

"We must discuss options to deal with this." The vampire continued.

"You're damn right you do!" A boisterous voice called out in Russian. It was Alferii, of course, who made quite an entrance, strolling up with a wand in one hand and a thick stake that might have once been a table leg in the other.

Hissing erupted from many of the vampires, mostly those who looked less human, while everyone at least adopted a cold glare. Vaclar's face mirrored that of his fellows – Harry quickly attempted to adopt it as well, though he really wanted to erupt with laughter – while Zarek perhaps had the fiercest glare of them all. Come to think of it, Harry realized that he hadn't ever seen the Senior Apprentice around while training with Alferii; not that Harry was complaining, of course.

"You have no right, Hunter! No right at all to be here! This is a private matter!" The proceeding had apparently switched to Russian, now, much to Harry's relief. Both humans expected spittle to fly from the mouth of the enraged vampire leader, he was so visibly angry.

"About killing vampires, exactly. Happens to be a hobby of mine, really, and I'll be happy to help you out. Who needs slaying, then?" Alferii asked the gathered crowd. Even Vaclar had to fight off a bit of a smirk from his face at the big Russian's antics.

"Even you, Hunter, are not arrogant enough to believe you could defeat us assembled." In less than an instant, the vampire had drawn a wand – a twisted, blackened thing that looked as ancient as his wardrobe – that was pointing at Alferii, who still managed to smirk comfortably.

"Of course not, Count," Alferii finally said, "but you and I are not enemies today, despite any history. Working together is the best way for all of us to be successful." Alferii lowered his own wand, but Harry noticed a bit of nervous energy – he was ready to defend himself in an instant.

"We must discuss." The noise of Apparition was heard all around the room; Vaclar or Zarek must have grabbed Harry, because he was Side-Along Apparated to a much smaller room with a massive ebony table and matching set of chairs. Disoriented slightly, Harry noticed that only the dozen or so vampires that looked the most reminiscent of humans, each visibly carrying at least one wand, had Apparated into this room. It was obviously some kind of 'elite' meeting.

"It is rare that such a meeting has taken place." The leader, the Count, said darkly as everyone took a seat at the impressive table. The lighting in the room was dark, though it was decorated in elegant black and silver all around; the sconces on the wall cast long shadows making the monsters within look even more menacing.

"We have not ruled out the possibility of the werewolves being responsible, Count. I, for one, do not think –"

"Those _beasts_ cannot make kills such as have been made, you fool! Only vampires can be so elegant, so careful! And not just any vampires! Those things out there are little better than werewolves themselves! No, the one responsible is here, of that I am sure." This news sent an uncomfortable shockwave through the room.

Vaclar was one of the few to take the news well, continuing to meet the steely gaze of the Count. Others looked around suspiciously, as though the guilty party would jump up and reveal themselves at that moment. Zarek had a bit of a smirk on his face, watching it; he had an odd sense of morbid humor, Harry thought.

"How dare you –" One rather fat vampire leapt out of his chair and yelled with a snarl, revealing his fangs.

"I will slay you where you stand if you don't sit back down and calm yourself!" The Count said, once more having drawn is wand some time while Harry blinked, in a hiss. The fat one sat back down with a glare.

"Lord Vaclar." Harry watched Nicolas' former apprentice rise steadily, seemingly not perturbed by the attention of everyone in the room.

"You, along with that Hunter who interrupted our proceedings, are to take charge of the investigation." Vaclar responded with a nod of his head and sat back down. One more glare around the room – Harry seemed to get the focus of this one, for whatever reason – and the Count Apparated out; the others joined him and Harry was once more Side-Along Apparated, probably by Vaclar, to the room full of vampires and Alferii. While the seemingly mindless vampires seemed to gather close around the big Russian, he did not look much concerned as he merely wiped the blade of a long Russian Shaska saber, the type typically used by their military. The threat to any approaching vampire was quite obvious.

"The decision has been made!" The Count announced, once again in his magically magnified voice, "Lord Vaclar will lead the investigation, with the advice, as needed, of Alferii the Hunter. Return to your own homes and coffins!" The hall was once again filled with the cracks of a dozen Apparitions, as well as the sound of the simpler vampires making their way towards the various exits in the hall.

Vaclar nodded to Harry and Disapparated, so Harry did likewise and returned to the outside of Vaclar's mansion.

"Get to bed, Harry, and away with you, as well, Zarek. Alferii and I have much to discuss that doesn't concern either of you." Harry, so shocked at hearing his name come out of the mouth of Vaclar, instead of the somewhat disdainful, "Apprentice", nodded and shuffled into his closet, which had once more, like always, been shrunken back to normal size by Zarek at some point in the day. Despite the curse that Harry had set up that should have been expelling the vampire's entrails by now.

Harry re-enlarged the room and set his things to their proper place with only so much as a glance towards Zarek's room and a slight narrowing of his eyes.

After the first two weeks of humiliating scolding in front of Zarek during each lesson – which helped Harry's Occlumency progress rapidly, actually, as he learned to ignore them – potentially deadly explosions, random cursing – which aided Harry's situational awareness greatly – and daily dueling practice where Harry was supposed to put into use the various things learned in lectures, Vaclar had learned that Harry was almost totally incapable of nonverbal spell-casting; their focus narrowed almost immediately.

The night of the meeting was not a topic discussed by anyone in the manor, despite how curious Harry may have been. Alferii had dropped in and out regularly since, but hardly so much as spared a greeting to Harry, even though he always seemed friendly, if tired. Vaclar, too, obviously spent his nights elsewhere after he finished lessons with Harry and Zarek each day; not needing sleep, he was at an advantage over his human partner, but still managed to get slightly more irritable almost every day.

This made Harry's instruction, when he was so incompetent to begin with at nonverbal casting, even more painful and possibly lethal than usual.

"It is a matter of focus and determination. The study of Occlumency should aid you in nonverbal casting," Vaclar here nonverbally shot a Tripping Jinx at Harry that he lifted up his foot to avoid, "because your mind should be clear of other distractions if you are skilled enough. You should have noted by now the lack of correlation between screaming a curse and power – it is just as effective to mutter your curse, given sufficient practice. Of course, emotions can increase a spell's effect, and therefore the ignorant might believe that it is their scream that helps the spell, but they are wrong."

'_I don't know…I'm pretty frustrated often enough with nonverbal spells…that's an emotion that doesn't seem to help me much_.' Harry thought wryly. For his inattentiveness, he narrowly avoided tipping over the bubbling cauldron he was standing over as Vaclar's next nonverbal Trip Jinx nailed his leg and he was flung off balance and fell to the cold stone ground.

"You might consider paying closer attention, considering your ineptitude at the subject, Apprentice." Vaclar never referred to Harry by name apart from a single instance, just as 'Apprentice'. Harry constantly wondered if that instance was a slip up on the part of a weary Vaclar, or for his adequate performance at the meeting, managing to convince a hundred vampires that he, too, was one. Harry tended to believe the former, but hoped for the latter.

"My apologies, Master. I shall focus harder." Harry said dutifully, masterfully keeping the disdain out of his voice. Disdain when addressing the Master only led to a rather painful punishment at the hands of the Senior Apprentice, he learned.

It was so different than at Nicolas' here, he knew. Questions were altogether discouraged, instead the Apprentice must learn the information on his own. At Nicolas', Harry at least wasn't punished for asking, though he sometimes got cryptic or partial answers. Harry of course preferred Nicolas' tuition, but unfortunately couldn't deny that Vaclar's lessons were well learned. Vaclar, of course, allowed nothing else.

"That potion is as complete as it shall be, Apprentice. Now, we shall see how well the lesson has stuck, I believe. Cast a spell at me." The instruction for a nonverbal attack was implicit. 'Cheek' shown if Harry had verbally cast the spell, which was technically not expressly forbidden, would be swiftly punished.

'_Everbero_,' Harry thought. His focus was not much improved from the beginning of the lesson, and nothing came out of the tip of his wand. He tried once more, and a third time, before the punishment struck.

"_Crucio._" Vaclar said in a bored tone. It never lasted much longer than a second or two for minor failures, but the excruciating, mind-numbing pain was the frequent punishment. In either case, Vaclar's heart wasn't really behind the spell as Voldemort's had always been, so it wasn't nearly as terrible.

Three more attempts and failures, complete with a short "_Crucio_" each from Vaclar – who was starting to put a bit more desire to cause pain behind the spell with each casting – angered the vampire and wore out his patience. He strode in that impossibly fast gait across the laboratory as Zarek watched on, an eager light dancing in the cruel boy's eye as he looked up from his own work.

Vaclar, with strength Harry would once have believed impossible, tossed him against the wall as easily as Harry might a doll and held him, strong but wiry hand crushing Harry's throat against the plaster wall as Harry heard it crack from the pressure. He saw stars as blood and oxygen were cut off from his brain and struggled vainly to raise his wand on the attacking Vaclar.

"Curse me, Apprentice!" Vaclar snarled viciously, one of the rare instances where his fangs were displayed in a terrifying reminder of what he was. His mouth open in a threateningly animalistic manner, Vaclar said once more in a raised voice, "Curse me!" as he lowered his mouth to the side of Harry's neck that had only his thumb around it, closed around a now throbbing carotid artery.

Harry was, of course, physically incapable of speaking at this point, or he would have long since cursed the vampire. His mind swam as he suffocated, and he realized that he would quite likely die here, possibly even becoming a vampire if Vaclar didn't think him too incompetent. However, Vaclar _did_ think him incompetent, and if he couldn't cast a bloody nonverbal spell to save his life – literally! – Harry was tempted to agree.

He could feel unconsciousness approaching, blackness creeping into his vision, as his last thought saved his life.

'_Depulso!_' He mentally screamed, forcing all of his frustration at his ineptitude into the Banishing spell he felt explode from his wand.

Vaclar was now the one flung like a rag doll as his body impacted with a crash against the shelf on the other side of the room. He landed at an odd angle, his neck obviously broken. Harry, oblivious to it all as he was on his knees gasping for breath, hardly noticed the flash of light from Vaclar's own wand at the back of his neck. He only looked up as he saw Vaclar twist his head in either direction as it cracked noisily. Harry scrambled and picked up his wand once more, but Vaclar only regarded him dispassionately.

"Well," he said, gazing down somewhat coldly at Harry's obviously frightened and battered form, "I think you have overcome your block for nonverbal spells. You have the rest of the evening to practice, Apprentice."

And indeed, Harry was able to reproduce the effects, in rather less spectacular displays, all throughout that evening and the rest of the week as Vaclar moved on to advanced dueling techniques that could only be attempted with nonverbal spells, as well as working to improve his form and casting speed.

In his own spare time, Harry still struggled with casting spells nonverbally. With diligent nightly practice at targets and blocks of wood he'd managed to conjure up – he'd done several essays on inanimate conjuration during his O.W.L. year in Transfiguration, after all – he managed to reproduce the focus necessary and was constantly improving.

First and second year spells gave way to simple jinxes and hexes, which in turn gave way, with the help of Occlumency-enhanced concentration, to Vanishing spells, O.W.L. level transfigurations – including his nightly bedroom modifications – along with the more advanced charms that Harry had learned in his time with Nicolas and the variety of deadly curses that Harry had learned from his time with Vaclar – mostly from the vampire hurling them at him, then making him research them. None of the advanced curses, especially, were as good as when he cast them verbally, but he was still only at the elementary stages of the technique, so he considered himself quite adequate.

His nightly diligence paid off quickly; by the end of the week, Vaclar's advanced dueling lessons actually made sense and were able to be implemented – at least rudimentarily – by Harry. He still couldn't snap off curses with the impunity that Vaclar or Zarek could, but he was getting faster every day, and at least thought himself quite a bit more creative in his dueling methods. Of course, dueling wasn't his specialty any more, since Nicolas had introduced him to the world of enchanting. But he still kept up the skill, if only by necessity at Vaclar's hand.

Zarek, in particular, because Harry was certain that Vaclar had never truly attempted to defeat Harry with all of his skills, was a straightforward duelist. Were it not for his entirely silent casting, elaborate knowledge of painful curses Vaclar was reticent to quickly reverse, and frightening speed – a perk of being a vampire, of course – he would have fit in well amongst the average D.A. students.

Harry, however, since gaining such proficiency with them under the tutelage of Nicolas, was anxious to try out his other skills. He performed transfigurations that he set upon his opponents with a silent _Oppugno_, used the stealth skills developed at the Reserve after setting up a layer of fog to sneak up behind even the wary Zarek, and generally had a fun time trying out new strategies as quickly as he could think them up. Not to say that he was a slouch with the straight-ahead curse-and-shield technique that Zarek used, of course, but he couldn't yet go head-to-head with him, so he rarely tried unless desperate.

It was the beginning of the fourth week that Harry's tutelage once again shifted.

"Apprentice!" Vaclar called out that morning at breakfast, "Alferii and I have done all we can here, so the next part of our task will by necessity take place in the field. We will be gone nearly every day and night, so your instruction will not take place by my hand." Harry's hopes were foolishly raised when he expected Nicolas to burst through the door and take him pack to Devon.

"Instead, the Senior Apprentice will continue your instruction." Zarek's superior smirk grew malicious at the announcement. The bastard had known, apparently.

"Since I will not be here to reverse any injuries you may sustain," Vaclar continued with a glare at Harry, "There will be no dueling. Instead, Zarek will work with you on one of the topics of his thesis. He is quite knowledgeable in the area, and it will be good for him to begin basic instruction. After all, Senior Apprentice, when you get your Mastery, you are expected to take on an apprentice and instruct him." A leer towards Harry either inferred that Harry was inexperienced enough to be Zarek's apprentice or that Harry would never achieve the rank of Master and instruct an apprentice of his own. Either way, Harry refrained from a roll of his eyes by blocking his frustration with Occlumency.

Harry knew, at Zarek's first glance, that his last week as a vampire would be the most troublesome.

Harry knew the idea was crazy. Zarek was Vaclar's trusted Senior Apprentice, after all.

But still, he had the suspicion, and he just couldn't shake it.

With Vaclar and Alferii gone from the manor – Harry hadn't seen either since the announcement at breakfast three days prior – Zarek had taken to strutting around like it was his own manor. The nightly visits by various girls continued, and escalated quickly – the first night, Harry supposed in celebration, there were two girls entering Zarek's room instead of just one.

And never, despite many attempts, had Harry seen one leave.

Harry had finally stayed up all night in vigilant observation this night, and finally, Zarek emerged, looking refreshed and normal. When he saw Harry sitting in the hall on the floor, he eyed him suspiciously.

"Apprentice? What are you doing on the ground?" Harry, his mind only slightly sluggish from his long vigil and lack of sleep, tried to look defiant and suspicious as he got up off the floor.

"Where's the girl, Zarek?" Harry asked simply. Zarek's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but then he adopted his usual smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Apprentice." He made a move to go past Harry, who shot his arm to the wall right in front of Zarek's face, not allowing him past.

"That's a lie. The girl you took into your room last night, where is she?" Zarek's look grew glacial, and he put his face right next to Harry's.

"Your delusions and fantasies are of no interest to me, Apprentice." A quick blow to Harry's stomach left him gasping for breath, flung across the hall despite Alferii's training.

"Now, I'd suggest you get ready for breakfast and your lessons." Zarek said, eyes blazing towards the younger boy. He casually waved his wand in the direction of Harry's room, for the first time easily canceling all of his enchantments in front of Harry.

Harry took a moment to get up from the ground and briefly eyed Zarek's room. If he hadn't known of the deadly curses Zarek bragged about placing on his door, Harry would have snuck in and investigated; he wasn't suicidal, though, so he refrained. He used Cleaning charms and got dressed as Zarek suggested, and went down to an uncomfortably silent breakfast, which Zarek spent most of eyeing Harry as though he were a book on display.

"Today we shall attempt a different sort of lesson." Zarek announced when Harry walked into the classroom, the vampire's signature smirk once more plastering his face. Harry was cautious as he listened to him continue; 'different' could have something to do with his morning's accusation. Zarek merely Apparated outside the room into the nearby hallway.

Harry, suspicious of the vampire's smirk, cast a series of revealing spells that indicated a solid layer of wards – including blood wards – that locked Harry within the room.

"As to your earlier accusation, the girl you saw enter my room has been Vanished." Harry's face grew hard, his eyes narrowed.

"If only Master Vaclar was as observant as his ignorant little apprentice, then perhaps the mystery of the disappearing Muggles would be solved…of course, I've enough minions and scapegoats to keep him busy until I complete my apprenticeship, at least, and then I intend to keep far away from my former master, as a proper Journeyman should. I suppose he might scold me for harsh teaching methods when he finds your corpse in here, dead from…whatever it is you mortals die from. I shall, of course, talk of your ineptitude and the incident shall be forgotten. Too bad, fool." Zarek laughed out loud, in a typically villainous way. Harry would have rolled his eyes at the whole thing if he hadn't been so furious at the Senior Apprentice.

"You think I won't get out of here, Zarek?" Zarek only laughed harder at Harry's question.

"Please! These wards are far beyond your pathetic skills, I assure you. I didn't even bother making them permanent in any way, and they're still beyond you! You are more than welcome to try – in fact, I do encourage it, as it will speed up your death – but I'm sure that I'll not be troubled by any pathetic little plot you might think up, little Apprentice." Harry merely glared in response, and set about casting the standard revealing spells while Zarek confidently strode away.

Two days later, Harry was still inside the room. He felt a bit like he was back on Privet Drive, starved and locked away as he was. He was forced to admit Zarek's superiority at ward creation, despite all his best efforts to prove the vampire wrong. Harry's ace-in-the-hole had even been thwarted – while there was nothing preventing a House Elf from bypassing the wards, there was a modified Silencing Charm preventing them from hearing Harry's calls.

Despite his attempts at using his Arithmancy skills in an attempt at curse-breaking, it seemed that Zarek wasn't exaggerating one bit; Harry thought he had finally managed to chart out a few different possibilities for the Anti-Apparition Jinx that blanketed the room – a N.E.W.T.-level feat that he was quite proud of – but even that was so complicated that breaking it would be beyond him, and it was nothing to some of the blood wards that Zarek specialized in.

"Zarek must be the only one keyed into those," Harry muttered to himself – a new habit developed over the 48 hours of solitude – as he examined the first blood ward he managed to map out by taking several liberties with what he knew of Arithmancy; this was a supposition at best, but Harry had no better guesses. Fortunately, the one he'd picked at random seemed to be the most important one, tying the entire scheme together.

"No, definitely can't bring that one down…if I was keyed into it, though, the whole thing would be totally ineffective." That was one of the key points that Zarek had harped on during his lecture on blood wards – keyed into them, you'd barely notice their presence unless you were looking for them, like those on Privet Drive that Harry had lived under his entire life and never noticed.

"That's it, then…I need to key myself into the wards in order to stand a chance." Harry continued to himself, not noticing the half-crazed tone he'd adopted as a combined result of his solitude, desperation, and exhaustion. "But knowing Zarek, he'd keep the blasted thing on him at all times…"

A plan beginning to take form in his mind, he began screaming over and over again for Zarek; he hoped the wild craziness in his voice was intentional, and not even more pronounced than he noticed previously.

"Would you cease that incessant racket, you ignorant twit!?" Zarek roared as he finally came down the stairs – his bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his own obvious tiredness indicated that he hadn't gotten much more sleep than Harry had; Harry filed this information away for later, attempting to remain calculating through his tiredness.

"I've figured it out, Zarek, the weakness in your wards!" Harry yelled crazily. After all, within every great lie was a bit of truth. Zarek remained unconvinced, perking an eyebrow.

"Oh, is that so? Well then, why don't you reveal this crucial weakness to me?" Zarek said sarcastically.

"It's simple, Zarek!" Harry said, spitting out the name like vile poison, "I just need to summon your ward stone from your room or wherever it is, and then the wards are useless!" That actually might work, if Zarek were an idiot and didn't protect the stone from Summoning. "_Accio Ward Stone!_" Harry said, waving his wand with a flourish. His brief bit of hope that Zarek had not, in fact, been that intelligent, was bashed as no stone came forth, and he hoped that magnified on his face. Zarek laughed with a cackle.

"Oh, well done, Apprentice, very clever. Of course, I could simply cast an Anti-Summoning Charm on the stone, rendering your plan a total failure! Look," he said, pulling the stone out of his pocket just as Harry hoped he would, revealing it to him, "It was in my pocket the whole time, not in my room. It was right here, and you still couldn't Summon it. Damned fool, stop wasting my time and die with a bit of class!"

Before Zarek turned on his heel, stomping away, Harry summoned up every bit of will and determination had and silently Vanished the pinprick of blood in his palm, hoping against hope that it would reappear on the stone in Zarek's pocket, keying Harry into the wards. However, nothing changed that he noticed – he didn't have enough experience with using blood wards to know if this was usual or not – so he waited thirty seconds or so for Zarek to leave and somewhat frantically cast the series of Revealing Spells like he had previously.

To his audible relief in the form of a sigh, the mosaic of wards had changed just a bit; it would have been imperceptible if he hadn't spend the past two days staring at the pattern, he never would have noticed. He could only guess that it was the addition of two people keyed into the wards instead of a single person, and had no time or energy to verify that with Arithmancy.

Heedless of the consequences if he was wrong, he marched through the door that had previously meant his likely death and guaranteed incapacitation. Instead of lightning arcing across the room, fireballs exploding in a hellacious display of pyrotechnics, or his organs exploding within his body, he felt nothing, just as he'd earlier predicted he would have if keyed into the wards. He quickly Disillusioned and Silenced himself, also erecting the Scent-Masking Charm.

Zarek, however, had not spent the time idly, making use of Vaclar's time away. Three vampires – Harry didn't recognize them from the gathering he'd went to a few weeks ago – passed Harry, who knew well enough to recognize them as the mindless variety, unlike Zarek.

Harry silently cast three _Petrificus Totalus_ hexes, and then Disillusioned the frozen bodies of the three after moving them to a secluded closet of the manor. A quick Repelling charm on the door, and they likely wouldn't be found for a few hours, at least.

Harry continued his progress through the manor, finally standing outside a room when he heard Zarek's raised voice, "No, I don't care if ten of you have been slain by Vaclar and Alferii, you should not have come here! I have to get rid of you and all traces of you before he gets back. I am powerful, but Vaclar is a century my senior, and very skilled. Now, get out! And take the drones with you!" A female vampire, more human-looking, and likely more intelligent than the blood-sucking parasites that Harry had tied up, was in the room there with Zarek, Harry could see, getting screamed at by the frantic Zarek.

"Of course, Master," 'Leave it to Zarek to be arrogant enough to need someone to call him Master,' Harry thought, annoyed, "Shall we continue our feeding schedule as planned?"

"Yes, of course Sariahna. Go kill the Muggles to your heart's desire." Harry left hand closed into a tight fist as he heard them casually talk about killing people like they were nothing, but he forced the violent urges to run into the room wand blazing from his mind with a bit of Occlumency and good sense. The girl left the room at the same time as Zarek, and Harry decided to follow her – Zarek was shooting cleaning spells and Air Freshening Charms all along the hallway, trying to get rid of any sign of the fifteen vampires that visited while Vaclar was away.

The vampires were quickly rounded up in the snow outside of the manor; the chilling wind whipped fresh powder in Harry's face, and he was thankful for the warming charms he'd enchanted into his robes that protected the rest of him from the bite of the weather.

The vampire who talked to Zarek was busily making Portkeys for each of the 'drones', as Zarek had called them; two were left as she beckoned, "You two are coming with me this time." And Harry knew that it was time for him to act, in order to prevent the deaths of at least a few Muggles.

"_Confringo_!" He yelled, as a blast blew the three from their feet. One of the drones, dressed in rags like a homeless beggar, had caught a bit more of the blast, and when he got back up, most of his face and rags were charred; he seemed not to notice. Harry's own Disillusionment Charm faded when the vampire witch pointed her wand in his general direction and must have cast _Finite Incatatum_, ending his concealment.

"What are you doing? You are no drone!" The woman, her long black tresses whipping around so that they flowed around her, screamed at him over the gale winds. Harry answered her with two quick curses that he'd learned from Vaclar in his first week specifically to deal with vampires.

"_Telum Ligneus_" Harry called twice in quick succession. Because it was a paired conjuration and curse, he couldn't cast it silently – it was too complicated. However, the element of surprise was enough that nonverbal spells weren't needed; both of the drones took the wooden stake – they were small spears, really, more than stakes – in the chest and the curse that kept them alive failed. Where the vampires stood, mere corpses fell.

"Bah! Mere drones! You think they are not replaceable? I could have ten more of them tonight, if I so desired!" She taunted as her wand erupted with a bright orange curse that Harry didn't recognize. He sidestepped it handily and quickly sent off two nonverbal spells of his own – a Dancing Jinx aimed slightly to her left, and then a Flinging Hex to her right that hit her just as she dodged. Harry grinned broadly with his success and silently cast a _Protego_ shield for her imminent retaliation.

"_Viscus Expello_" She screamed the Entrail-Expelling Curse rather viciously, which he confidently strode into at a run. His shield stood up to the curse and his surprise move allowed him to hit her with a tackle, just as Alferii had taught him. She went down heavily, but Harry soon felt the unnatural strength all vampires possessed as she wrestled for dominance with him, easily flinging him on his back and straddling him as she quickly raised a fist to hit him. Harry, however, had no intention of fighting fair, and had already worked to keep his wand hand unhindered by his opponent.

"_Expulso_!" While physically, Harry may have been no match for the girl, his spell at such proximity hit her like a wrecking ball; she flew through the air like a rag doll, and landed heavily in a burst of powder with several '_snap_'s of broken bones.

"_Crucio_!" She cried desperately; her curse flew wild, and before she even attempted to turn on the spot to escape with Apparition, Harry flung one last _Telum Ligneus_ at her. His aim was true and she too was vanquished, leaving only a pale corpse behind.

The adrenaline worn off, and two days of exhaustion finally catching up to him, Harry too collapsed as the fight ended, on his knees crawling back towards Vaclar's manor. He opened the door to find three men in the entrance hall, two of which he was happy to see.

"He still hasn't learned the lesson, Master, so I'm not sure it would be prudent to interrupt him. He was making good progress, when last I checked." Zarek said smoothly before seeing Harry emerge from the door, albeit on his knees, no doubt looking a fright from a lack of food or hygiene.

Vaclar looked curiously over at Zarek, and then back to Harry. "It would seem, Senior Apprentice, that he has finally managed to break the Anti-Apparition Jinx and Apparate outside the manor. I might also advise that you allow him simple conveniences like a shower – mortals tend to smell even with frequent bathing."

"Did you catch the leader of the ring of vampires, Master Vaclar, Alferii?" Harry said, somewhat rudely interrupting Vaclar, who raised his eyebrow imperiously at the show of disrespect; he may have dismissed it from Harry's obvious lack of sleep.

"Not the leader, boy, but we rounded up a few of the less intelligent ones and killed them pretty easy. Probably just a bunch got together and decided to start killing. What were you two up to?" Alferii said, a smile from the seeming success of the mission. Harry finally found the strength to get up off of his feet and shakily stood, wand still in hand and at the ready. Zarek's murderous gaze promised death as he stared Harry down.

"I found the leader; those drones, as he called them, were just taking orders from your Senior Apprentice, along with one other girl vampire who had a wand. Why don't you tell them where you sent the drones, Zarek?" Moving blindingly fast, Zarek sent off twin curses at Alferii and Vaclar before Harry had even finished speaking. Vaclar was driven to a knee, while Alferii was blown back, hitting the stone stairs heavily but immediately whipping out his sword and wand even as he broke a few ribs.

Zarek, all in one motion from the spell-slinging, continued on a straight course that was a mix of a run and a horizontal leap, launching himself straight at Harry. In an instant, Alferii's main lesson for vampire fighting came back to him, and he knew what he had to do.

"_Use their strength against them, turn their momentum around. They're strong, so you have to be fast; don't let them get you where they want you, or you've already lost!_" Alferii had said seriously, so many times.

Harry grabbed Zarek's arm before he could be grabbed himself and yanked the young vampire straight past him, into the solid wooden door. Zarek's neck snapped with a loud crack, and Harry once more fell to the ground from exhaustion and weakness. He saw Vaclar's menacing figure approach him just as blackness seeped into the edges of his vision and overtook him.

"Good morning, Harry."

Harry groaned pitifully as consciousness regained its handhold on him. His eyes were still protesting the abuse they'd taken, so he chose not to bother them for something as trivial as opening, and instead lay there – where 'there' was, he really had no idea, but it consisted of at least a bed more comfortable than anything he'd been able to transfigure over the past month – attempting to resume his sleep.

"Apprentice, your Master is not someone whose time you can waste whimsically! Have I taught you nothing in this past month?" Vaclar's harsh voice called out. Harry regretfully opened one eye a crack, and groaned once more in greeting to his guests.

Nicolas was there, smiling down at Harry like he always did. Vaclar's face held no emotion – again, typical – but neither did it hold the borderline disdain that it usually did when Harry was around. Perhaps Harry had gained a bit of respect from Nicolas' former apprentice.

"Alright, Harry, I believe that you've slept quite long enough – you've much to do today, so you really must get up. _Ennervate_!" The spell gave Harry just enough of a jolt to allow him to get up completely, and he quickly sat up.

He was in his familiar bed back in Devon, at Nicolas'. He could feel the warmth – relatively – that came with a significantly lower altitude than Vaclar's manor, and luxuriated in the beam of sunlight that was illuminating his bed. Cor, but it was good to have a window in his bedroom again!

"This is yours, now," Vaclar said suddenly, dropping a black leather-bound tome on the edge of his bed, "It is the only copy of Zarek's thesis. He never completed it, but I did so as a favor to you while you were sleeping. It won't be published, so share it with whomever you like." Harry ran his hand along the cover appreciatively.

"Thank you, Master Vaclar, this is a priceless gift. If I may ask, what happened with Zarek after I lost consciousness?" Vaclar's face darkened, but he answered.

"You snapped his neck with that throw – Alferii was intolerable afterwards, bragging that his lessons were more valuable than my own, so thank you for that – and Alferii and I both hit him with rather destructive curses. Permanently destructive, in several cases. Despite that, he Apparated away to safety before either of us could cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx. The killings have stopped, and the vampires are mostly satisfied with the outcome; especially those of them who didn't care for me, as I have lost quite a bit of respect from them because my Apprentice was responsible." Vaclar mentioned this without emotion, and it seemed not to bother him.

"I also inspected your work outside – at least you made use of my lessons there, it seems – and I was…rather impressed. For a half-trained monkey with a wand, your performance was rather adequate. You could have a future in dueling, Harry." Harry was quick to note that once more, Vaclar had used his name; he had definitely impressed him, then.

"Truthfully, I'll be happy to leave that skill behind, Master Vaclar. Fighting may be something I'm good at, but I can't say that I enjoy it like I do so many of the other things Master Flamel here has taught me." Harry said; Nicolas beamed with the praise as though Harry had given the right answer.

"A wise choice, I think. Very well, then, I shall take my leave of you. Apprentice, it was…an interesting month. I will see you again, I think. Master, a pleasure as always." Nicolas smiled at Vaclar before he popped away, leaving the old man and the young one alone.

"Vaclar told me of your exploits this past month, Harry. I must say, when I talked to him about it, I had no idea he would be so…forceful in your education. I apologize for any pain and suffering you might have had. I am quite sure, however, that your next two experiences abroad will be different. Are you fully recovered?" Harry quickly took stock of himself. He didn't feel tired or sore, and it wasn't woozy when he sat up or stood up.

"Yeah, I'm pretty good."

"Then drink both of these. Potent memory potions, even compared to what you're used to." Nicolas immediately pointed his wand at Harry once he took the two bottles and swallowed their entire contents. The old man seemed to grow twice his size as some sort of transfiguration took place.

"Well then, enjoy your next month, Racksnap!" Harry caught his miniature trunk when Nicolas threw it at him, and could only wonder how he'd spend the next month as the familiar hook took hold behind his navel and he sped off.


End file.
